


Reflection

by Thea_Bromine



Series: Mirror Image [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 17:17:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thea_Bromine/pseuds/Thea_Bromine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just your basic screw-to-avert-the-apocalypse fic, version 2. </p><p>The reason it’s version 2 is that quite a long time ago, I began to get the first draft of the story which turned into <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1162226"><i>Incident</i></a>. In the way of such things, it arrived with apparently unrelated bits of plot and dialogue, to be put together jigsaw-fashion. It took me some considerable time to discover that the reason I couldn’t get the edges to join up properly was that the box contained pieces from more than one jigsaw and that the pictures were similar but not the same. This story is how <i>Incident</i> might have come out in a very slightly different universe. The two belong together but you don’t need to have read one to make sense of the other (that’s assuming that either one of them makes any sense at all).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Virginity Clause

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Incident](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162226) by [Thea_Bromine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thea_Bromine/pseuds/Thea_Bromine). 



“O.K., G-man, what’s the big deal?” He was fidgeting, he knew. Somehow he always did fidget around Giles. Oz didn’t. Oz never did. He was... Xander liked Oz, and he thought that Oz liked _him_ but he always had the Willow Thing at the back of his mind. Always had a vague feeling that Oz ought not to like him. But given what he was, Oz was amazingly not-aggressive. He suspected that Giles liked Oz a lot. Oz could keep up with Giles’ conversation, the way Xander couldn’t, and when they got to talking about music, Xander was left way behind. Oz was the only person allowed to borrow Giles’ beloved LPs, and for all Giles sneered at CDs, Xander had noticed once or twice that Oz had brought him something new, and that Giles had accepted it.

Whatever was happening, Giles would probably be better explaining it to Oz than to Xander. They were sitting in Oz’s room, and Giles was stammering as usual, and Xander always felt this urge to help, to push the story along. Would have thought he’d have learned by now to keep his mouth shut until Giles got to the end of his own accord, because Giles always _did_ answer Xander's questions, but sometimes the answer depended on something Giles hadn’t told them yet.

He hoped that Giles knew that whatever it was they were needed for, Xander was there to help. Yeah, so his help tended to be of the pizza fetching and doughnut delivering type, but if that was where your skills lay, it was a shame to waste them. And if it came to fighting... Xander didn’t want to fight, but if fighting was what there was, well, Xander would fight. Willow was all magic-girl, and Oz was red in tooth and claw, and Giles was Oxford and books and research, and Xander didn’t do much, but he was there for them and they just had to tell him what to do.

“Giles?” The soft prompting was Oz. Giles would be more likely to answer Oz than Xander. He was shuffling his papers, looking down at them, removing his spectacles to polish them. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good, not if Giles looked like that.

“It’s an apocalypse.”

Well, duh, Giles.

“What do we have to do?” That was Oz, again, straight to the point.

“Didn’t you call Buff? And Willow?” Xander caught Giles opening his mouth looking like he was about to snap, and catching himself. Why? Xander thought it was a perfectly reasonable question.

“They can’t help.”

“They can’t? Why not?”

“They’re women. Women can’t help this time.”

Xander glanced from Giles to Oz. “Yay! A chance for male bonding and apocalypse averting which doesn’t include PMS and strappy shoes. ‘Kay. Like the wolfman says, what do we have to do?” 

Giles hesitated again, which was decidedly not of the good.

“I, you, what we, I mean to say...” He was going to bust his spectacles in a minute if he kept on at them like that. Xander had never needed to wear spectacles but he knew people who did – well, obviously – and he didn’t know _anybody_ who worked at their lenses like Giles.

Oz tipped his head fractionally to one side and raised his eyebrows a quarter of an inch, which was what he did when he wanted to ask questions and didn’t want to at the same time. Xander opened his mouth, because hey, he felt no qualms about asking, and Giles cut in hastily.

“It’s a sex spell.”

And way to go, Giles, on the sensible and logical explanation.

“Somebody has to have sex?”

Giles gave him a look which said quite clearly that he thought he had just said that.

”I’m liking it already.” He got a glare for that, and shrugged. “Unless it’s uncool demon sex. Just saying, read about it in your books, Giles, don’t want to do it with anything tentacled and icky... is that too much information?”

“Yes,” Giles and Oz said together.

“’Kay. Give us the detail, Giles, and not too much detail about it, and that sentence made way more sense in my head. Who has to have sex, and who with? And please let it be a who and not a what.”

Giles was past spectacle polishing and up to pinching the bridge of his nose, which was rarely a good sign. “It’s a who. It’s two whos.”

He couldn’t resist. “One of them’s an owl?”

Giles snapped. “Just shut _up_ , Xander. This is hard... this is difficult enough without you interrupting with silly jokes.”

Xander knew his expression went a bit off, the way it so often did with Giles. He just wanted... he’d been trying to keep things light, to make it easy for the G-man, but Giles never seemed to appreciate...

“Both of them are men.”

O.K., that wasn’t what Xander had been expecting, and if Oz wasn’t careful he’d be making it all the way to a no-holds-barred expression. Giles looked from one of them to the other and having wigged Xander fairly completely, filled in the detail.

“The counterspell requires that a male virgin shall have sex with another man. And I’m sorry to involve you both, but as you can no doubt see if you give your minds to it, the potential candidates whom I could approach without being arrested or expecting a punch in the mouth are limited.”

Jeez. O.K., Xander was gaping like a goldfish, out of things to say.

“Ah. On the virginity clause, Giles, I’m not eligible.” That was Oz. Xander stopped doing the goldfish impression.

“Um, me neither. I know it seems unlikely, but there has been a girl willing to take the risk, although as a matter of fact all the risk was on my side and maybe I should just shut up now?”

Giles shook his head. “I, I rather assumed... well, I knew... I guessed that. It’s not the, the significant point. The, the provisions of the spell are quite specific. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done with women. What matters is whether you’ve done it with, with another man. If you haven’t, you count as a virgin. One of the parties needs, needs to be a virgin. The status of the second doesn’t matter.” He ran out of steam again.

Oz shrugged. “Sorry, Giles, still not eligible.”

Giles blinked once, which might have meant that he was surprised and might not; Xander definitely was. “You’ve... you’re gay? But... what about Willow?”

Oz looked calmly at him. “I’m not gay. There was a guy at a gig came onto me. I was... curious.” He looked down and smiled reminiscently. “There was some good stuff going round that night. Somebody had been... forget where, and brought back some stuff. Nothing nasty, but real good joints being shared around. Somebody gave me one and it was just enough to make everything possible. Just enough that when he asked, I thought ‘why not, just to see?’ Did see. Tried both ways, could see how it could be good, if that’s your vibe.” He looked at them both, unashamed. Giles... didn’t look surprised, actually. “Not for me. Not sorry I tried, you know? It’s different, a man’s body. Planes rather than curves, and you _know_ what feels good rather than having to find out. Was O.K. when I did him, felt weird when he did me. Not sorry I tried, but never felt the urge to try again. Guys don’t do it for me.”

Xander's mouth hung open. “You had gay sex because you were _stoned_? Just because...”

“Because I thought it might be fun, yeah. And it _was_ fun, but not to try again. And I wasn’t really stoned. Like I say, just enough to make everything possible.”

Giles was silent, but he didn’t seem to be surprised, or shocked. He just turned his gaze on Xander.

And this was a conversation he _so_ didn’t want to have. But that was apocalypses for you.

“I’m... I’m not eligible either. Sorry.”

Giles was stone-faced, no expression at all. Ox blinked twice, which might  have been a shriek of ‘No! What? Tell us everything!’ and, knowing Oz, might not. This was _so_ not the way Xander would have chosen to out himself. Always assuming that Xander had ever intended to out himself, which he hadn’t. At least, not for a good long time. But...

It was an apocalypse, and all bets were off.

“So you remember Larry? And Larry thought he was gay – well, Larry _was_ gay. And Larry thought I was gay and everybody thought that was way funny, including all of you, if you remember, and Larry insisted on introducing me to all his friends who were gay too. No, hang on, that doesn’t sound right. I don’t mean that all of Larry’s friends were gay. I mean, he had friends who were gay and he introduced me to all of them. He told them all that I was too, and I spent three months trying to tell them I wasn’t, and David didn’t believe me, he said his gaydar said I was, or bi at least and why was I in denial and I said I wasn’t and he said to prove it and I said O.K. and he was right. We spent another three months proving that he was right, and then he went off with some dude from the football team and I never told any of you because... well, because I didn’t.” And oh God, he was babbling again, and Giles was... Giles was wearing the weirdest expression ever, Giles obviously thought that Xander was a complete idiot.

“I see,” he said, carefully.

“So, I’m really sorry, Giles, but if you need a virgin to sacrifice to put off the apocalypse, it’s not me.”

“No,” agreed Giles, slowly. “I, I rather think it’s me.”

And he had _so_ not seen _that_ one coming either.

“Huh?”

He got the full scale Giles Glare™ for that. “I said, it’s me. I told you, it doesn’t matter what one has done with women; the only factor is that one has never had sex with a man.”

“And you’ve never...” He winced at the sound of his own voice; it was way rude to sound so surprised.

Giles shook his head; he looked awful.

“But I thought that you and Ethan Rayne...”

O.K., that was obviously a no. Giles looked as if he didn’t know whether to laugh hysterically or lose his temper.

“ _Ethan?_ You thought _Ethan_... God. I wish I could tell him: he’d be mortified.” He gathered himself. “Ethan’s a galloping homophobe, always has been.”

“But I thought... and Buffy thought, although she said it was way creepy, and Willow thought... No, come on, Giles, Ethan’s gay, isn’t he?”

Giles shook his head. “Wouldn’t even use the word. Ethan prefers ‘woofter’ or ‘bloody bender’. Straight as a die.”

“Oh,” said Xander blankly. “Then you’ve never...”

“I rather thought I had just said that. The, the question now is whether one of you could be persuaded, could be persuaded to, to...” Giles’ hands were tight fists; his voice was strained. The very idea was obviously terrifying. But this was Giles, of course. Feel the fear and do it anyway. “I, I wouldn’t ask, but I can’t think of anybody else.”

Xander swallowed hard. “Me?” It was a squeak, and Giles flinched.

“It doesn’t _have_ to be either of you, no, if you can think of somebody else, who, who might be willing... There’s no need for them to know why, as long as, as they would, they could...”

“You want to have sex with a _stranger_?”

Giles looked away in silence. Xander let his glance slip to Oz. “Whatcha think, Oz?”

Oz nodded. “Could manage the mechanics, sure, but I gotta say, Giles, I think if Xander's willing, you’d do better with him.”

The glance Giles threw at Xander was filled with such sick misery that Xander couldn’t bear it. “Giles... How long have we got?”

Giles shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be instantly. We have a week. Any time within the week, we can start, start the ritual. It’s quite straightforward: it nominates me as the sacrifice...”

Both Xander and Oz made sounds of dismay, and Giles back-pedalled. “As the vic... the volunteer. And then I have until, until dawn on Monday to complete the, the, the... So you have time, you both have time to decide if you can do it at all, and then... I appreciate that neither of you is keen.”

Xander wasn’t good at hearing what was going on under the surface, as a rule, but he could hear that. Giles thought that neither of them would _want_ to. His glance crossed with Oz’s, who had plainly heard the same thing.

“Hey, G-man, I can’t speak for Oz – well, obviously – and ya know, I totally get that you don’t want to do it at all, ever, with anybody, but hey, apocalypse, yeah? So, if you can think down to my level, I’m putting my name on the list. I get, I _totally_ get that I’m not what you would want, I’m pizza boy and you want brains and skills and the rest. But, sure, I’ll take a ticket.”

Giles blinked at him and then shot a glance at Oz.

“You want me to, Giles, I will. Told you, it’s not my thing, but I’ve done it and I know I can. But it’s _not_ my thing, and I’ve only done it once, and I was... not stoned but hazy. Technique didn’t matter much to me, which was of the good because I don’t think either of us had any. You want somebody who knows what they’re doing, who can make it good for you.”

Xander winced. That assumed that it _could_ be made good for Giles, and hey, likely? Not so much. Giles was straight, even if they’d all thought he wasn’t; and even when they’d thought he wasn’t, they’d all seen it as, well, as Giles thinking he might be not-straight, and then researching being not-straight, and then deciding that he was not-straight based on his researches. He couldn’t imagine Giles taking Oz’s relaxed view of being propositioned and thinking ‘well, why not?’ And that was definitely going to be a problem. Another question struck him.

“Do you have to... is it just... we’re talking about fourth base, here, yeah?”

“Yes.” Giles wasn’t giving anything away, not about how he felt about it. “I can... you can read the translation, if you like, see what’s involved. And, and, if you want to take a copy of the original, get a second opinion...”

Xander scoffed. “Yeah. Get it from who?”

“Whom,” corrected Giles, absently. “Well, well, Willow might be able to, I don’t know how much of Quanzul she, she... Probably not. I know a man in England who could, who could, and there’s an ex-Watcher in Tokyo who could do it. We could fax it over.”

“And we’re supposed to trust somebody we’ve never heard of to say whether or not you gotta take one for the team?”

Giles had no answer to that, but Oz tipped his head to one side until he looked like a cartoon dog and pointed out, “Giles is just covering all the bases. Question is really whether or not you trust _him_ to have done the research right.”

Xander was silent for a moment, worrying at a loose thread on his cuff. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do. If research-guy says this is what has to be done, then I guess it has to be done. Giles doesn’t get it wrong, not about that sort of thing.”

Giles actually jumped, and stared at Xander, although he wasn’t sure why. They all knew that Giles was major research-guy, and he got it right even when getting it right cost him personally. “I wish I did,” he said bitterly. “But I’m certain, Xander. The text is, is, well, fairly blatant. I, I’ll show you.”

He had obviously thought it might come to this, because he’d done the translation in print rather than his normal chicken scratch handwriting. He held it out; Xander hesitated – like he would know anything? – and Oz took it from Giles’ hand, and settled down to read.

“There’s a spell to do first. That’s what Giles said, right? Sets him up as the...” Xander was prepared to bet that the word Giles had used was ‘sacrifice’, which was what he had said, but Oz picked up what he had changed it to. “Volunteer. The spell sorta draws him to the attention of whatever’s running the show. And then like he says, there’s a breathing space, and any time before the deadline...” He read on. “Yeah, it requires a full on fuck.”

Both Xander and Giles jumped; Oz didn’t generally use such words, but it wasn’t like they hadn’t all heard them before. Normally they were careful about using language in front of Giles; he disliked it, specially when it was the girls swearing, but Oz was right: this needed to be expressed in the language they would all of them understand, and so that there could be no possibility of misunderstanding.

“Giles has gotta be the one being fucked, Xander, not the other way round, and the important thing is that he’s gotta come.”

Giles got up suddenly, turning away to stand at the window of Oz’s tiny room. His ears were scarlet, and Xander could feel the heat in his own face. Oz read on. “And so do you, Xander. You gotta come in him, or the whole thing doesn’t count, is that it?”

He lifted his eyes to Giles, who looked back and nodded.

“Yes. But, but, there’s a, a problem.”

“Only one?” Xander couldn’t resist. Giles made a face, but he kept his eyes on Oz.

“This sort of spell – they’re not precisely common, but they turn up every now and then. They’re old, all of them, and a lot of them are to do with bloodlines – well, and blood magic generally. The ones involving girls are: very often the idea is not just to take a girl’s virginity but to get her pregnant. There’s, there’s a legend that the first Slayer and the first Watcher were twins, from a coupling of that type. The, the, a spell of this type, though, where both the parties are men, that’s more to do with transitional rituals, coming of age, rites of passage.” He hesitated. “Very often the two people involved would be, would be related. Closely related.”

Oz tipped his head the other way. “Closely?”

Giles shut his eyes. “You have to remember that modern morality is, well, modern.”

“We talking descriptive morality or normative morality here, Giles?” Oz grinned at Giles’ surprise. “I took the ethics class.”

“I’m not taking classes at all,” bit out Xander. Oz and Giles together could make him feel totally like a spare part sometimes. “Giles, what are you talking about? I’m not liking this, and I’m really not liking you talking about blood.”

“It’s not spilled blood, not in this case at least. This spell is a rite of passage spell,” said Giles plainly. “The point of it is to push somebody through into adulthood and to, to imbue him with the, the skills, the abilities, he needs as an adult, and, and more specifically, as a warrior. A fighter. Originally, the, the postulant, the novice, the, the probationer would be presented for the ritual by an older man who would say that he was worthy to be accounted an adult. That would very often be his father or his uncle. And the sex element was to transfer the, the essence of adulthood from the older man to the younger.”

Xander shuddered. “That is so... your _father_?”

“Or possibly Quentin Travers.”

“O.K., suddenly Oz and I look like very much better options for your Prom, Giles, even if we do expect you to put out at the end of it. I can go a corsage and some chocolates at least.”

“Thank you,” said Giles, drily. “That, that’s a great comfort. Of course there’s more to it than that – that would be an ordinary tribal ritual, not on the apocalyptic scale. This one, it’s not just me who has to make it to adulthood, it’s, it’s everybody. I’m just the representative.”

“Giles?” Oz looked puzzled. “If it’s a coming of age thing, then... can’t help noticing that we’re a deal younger than you.”

Giles shook his head. “I don’t think it would matter that much. I think, I think the fact that you’ve fought would be sufficient. Well, actually, I’ve been largely disregarding the whole battle-scarred warrior element on the grounds that we’ve all done that and none of us could be considered inexperienced.”

Xander frowned. “Then what’s... you said there was a problem.”

Giles sighed. “The problem is the... purpose. The transfer of, of... It’s got to be an actual transfer. So... whoever volunteers, you can’t use a condom.”

Xander blinked. “Jeez. Talk about going for the full on gay experience.” He glanced slightly desperately from Giles to Oz.

“Might have been hazy, but not that hazy,” offered Oz. “I used one. No reason to think I’m not clean.”

Xander nodded. “They showed us the really icky pictures in health class. I’ve always used one. And not just with David either. Got some experience in a house where there was an unwanted baby.” Hell, that sounded bitter but they all knew what things were like between his mom and his dad. “I’ve not been anywhere without a jacket on.”

Giles looked at the floor. “You’re both very wise. I... was less than careful when I was young. The risks in those days were... different. But I had a complete medical before I came to America, and... there was once since then that I wasn’t careful.” Well, that was surprising. He’d have put Giles down as _always_ careful, except that night with the... Whoa! The band candy? Buffy’s _mom_? O.K., _so_ not going there. “And she... we spoke afterwards. She was a little concerned for a week or two that I might have, that she might be pregnant, but she assured me that... I have no reason to think that I’ve been at risk in years. I, I did, a long time ago... Crabs once, and a general infection once, which cleared with antibiotics. Both of them twenty years ago. Nothing since. I think, I believe I’m clean.” He plainly forced himself to meet Xander's gaze. “I, I wouldn’t suggest, I wouldn’t ask if I thought I would be putting either of you in any danger. _Any_ danger.”

Xander hesitated for a moment in his turn and then nodded once. “’Kay. So... you gotta do the deed with one of us – yeah, I know, or somebody else, but there isn’t anybody else and we all know it – and it’s gotta be bareback, and everybody’s gotta come and that saves the world, right?”

“Yes,” said Giles flatly. “Literally. It’s not a small apocalypse, always assuming there were any such thing. It’s a bloody big ending-of-it-all, overrun-by-demons, blood-and-flames, everything-falling-into-the-void, multi-dimensional apocalypse. It’s not going to be saving just this world, it’ll be saving all the other ones as well. It’s just bad luck that the saving has to be done from this world, or it would be somebody else’s problem.”

Xander snorted. “Like we would trust anybody else to do it right? And oh merciful God, did I just say that? Oz, it’s gotta be you. Nobody can seriously want _me_ to save the world. Giles, I’m willing enough on a theoretical basis but you _know_ that involving me is a bad idea. You know I’ll screw it up, and that could have been better phrased, but you _know_ I will. Something would go wrong.”

“If you’re not willing, you’re not, but I don’t see why anything need go wrong. I, I’ll do the first part of the spell, the invocation. There is nothing that you have to do after that, except, except, nothing magical, or, or...” Giles ran down, and then added quietly, “except that you don’t want to. And if you don’t want to, I can see that there are, are difficulties. Practical difficulties. For anybody.”

And hell, Xander could see that Giles believed it. That Giles _believed_ that any man who liked other men would look at Giles and say ‘no, thanks’ rather than ‘yay, all my birthdays and Christmases come at once’. 

Giles was looking at his hands. “I do, I do understand that you’re not willing, either of you. I _do_ understand that, that this is a shocking concept, at all, and even more so because it’s me.  I’m sorry that I have to ask it of either of you. I can promise that if one of you will, will oblige me, I’ll do my best to, to, to make it as quick and, and straightforward as I can, and I can promise you that afterwards, it needn’t be mentioned again. It’s not something any of us would choose to do, but I’m afraid you put your finger on it, Xander: there is nobody else. It’s me, and I need it to be one of you two.”

There was a long silence, finally broken by Oz. “Look guys, was sorta hoping not to have to get to this, but obviously neither of you... I just think that it would be a deal easier if you stopped lying to each other. And possibly also to yourselves.”

They both gaped at him. He fidgeted. “’Kay, if you’re not gonna say it, I am. Giles, you’re not straight. Or not totally straight. Take your word for it that your friend Ethan wouldn’t give you a second look that way, but that hasn’t stopped _you_ looking at _him_. I’m thinking maybe this would be a good time to move past the denial?”

Yeah. General rule, if Giles disagreed with all the rest of them, Giles was right and they were wrong, but on the subject of Ethan Rayne? Might be nothing left now, but Xander _knew_ that Giles had cared. No way he would have allowed Ethan to run rings around him otherwise. Not Giles.

Oz turned to him. “And you’ve been watching Giles any time since graduation. When he comes in, your heart speeds up, you babble like an idiot, you’re throwing out signals so loud I’m half deafened by them. The only person louder with the signals is Giles and why the hell neither of you can hear the other is a mystery to me.”

Giles made a small sound along the lines of ‘meep’. Xander agreed.

“Come on, Oz, what makes you think, how do you... what?”

“The wolf knows,” said Oz placidly, or possibly it was ‘the wolf’s nose’, Xander wasn’t sure. “You two are hot for each other and have been these last six months.”


	2. Life's A Bitch, Xander

Well. Yes. Right. That was... he thought... he... Giles... Oz...

Oh come on, he was even babbling when he _thought_ now, as well as when he talked.

He managed to tear his gaze away from Oz, and to look at Giles – and wished he hadn’t. Giles looked about as humiliated as Xander had ever seen, with a side order of hopelessness.

It wasn’t true, then. For about half a second he had allowed himself to hope.

“Giles...” His mouth was moving as usual but he hadn’t a single clue what to say. “Oz...”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” said Oz, placidly. “Hormones, ya know?”

He didn’t know, but he’d take Oz’s word for it. And... oh! Since Oz was right about Xander – no point in denying it to himself, however much he’d thought that nobody else had seen, and the idea sat up in his head and waved encouragingly – he had no reason to think that Oz would be wrong about Giles. Well, except for the whole denial thing.

He looked at Giles again; Giles seemed to feel him looking, and turned his head away.

“Giles?” That was way too tentative but Giles wouldn’t look at him. Wouldn’t look at Oz, either. He got up, ignoring Oz, and looked over the top of Xander's head. Too polite, the G-man, to talk without looking at you, and too... something else, to meet Xander's eyes.

“You understand the apocalypse... requirements.” His accent had gone even more clipped than usual; he sounded like a cartoon English butler. “I need to fulfil them. Xander, if you can... I, I, I, we’ll need to talk about it. You’ll have to tell me what you need me to do, because I’ve never... oh good lord, you know I haven’t, that’s the whole point. Not, I think, right now. I, I need a little time, and I’m sure you do too. I, I, we both could do with... I’ll see you later.”

He had his hand on the door and he slipped out without acknowledging either of them any further; Xander could think of no way to stop him.

There was an uncomfortable silence. At least, Xander thought it was uncomfortable. He didn’t know what Oz thought. He suddenly realised that he had never known what Oz thought.

“That was mean,” he said suddenly.

“Yes,” agreed Oz, still placid. “But it was necessary.”

He was surprised. “ _Necessary_?”

Oz frowned at him; suddenly he felt that Oz was way ahead of him: Oz was at college and keeping up with Giles on the brains front, and Xander was young and stupid and useless and disappointing Oz by failing to understand. “You were going to dance round each other for ever and Giles was going to end up choosing me, not because he wanted to, but because he was afraid of choosing you.”

“But if he didn’t _want_ to choose me... and you told him you would... Oz, that was _mean_.”

Oz had that ‘come on, you can do better than that’ expression again. He recognised it; lots of people wore it when they talked to Xander.  Most of the time the person wearing it was Giles. “Xander, he _likes_ you. You like him. So O.K., this apocalypse thing, difficult for both of you, but still gotta be better than involving me. The sex has to be good for him or hey, demons. I don’t know how to do that; you do.”

“But if he wanted to choose you...”

“He didn’t. Not really. He only even thought about it because he was scared of you finding out that he likes you. And because he thinks that you don’t like him. I mean that you don’t like him _and_ you don’t _like_ him, like him.”

“Either way, it was supposed to be his choice,” muttered Xander stubbornly. “You took that away from him.”

Oz shook his head. “If he digs his heels in and says he won’t have you – and come on, it’s Giles we’re talking about, Mr Stubborn, you can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to – I’ll do it. I said I would. But he would rather have you because he likes you, and it would be better for him to have you, because that way the rest of us are less likely to be over-run by demons. Actually trying to avert an apocalypse here, Xander, not just trying to get you laid. Or him. The apocalypse is more important.”

He cocked his head again, and Xander could get what he was saying, sorta. Oz was trying to make it simple. For the apocalypse to be averted, Giles had to get laid. Giles liked Xander, Xander liked Giles, Xander knew how to make the sex good for Giles – theoretically, because Xander wasn’t at all sure that three months of hasty, secretive sex with another guy his own age counted as ‘experience’ when it came to showing somebody who’d never tried it at all – so obviously Xander was the one to have sex with Giles. Why did it need to be more complicated than that? It was sorta like Oz to see through to the heart of it and just to go straight for the easiest result. Xander wondered vaguely if that was a wolf-thing: see the danger, identify the danger, kill the danger. And with an apocalypse coming, ‘kill the danger’ meant ‘get Xander to get Giles to get his rocks off’.

He didn’t like it, but he felt better for understanding it. Oz saw his comprehension, and nodded at him. “Now you see.”

He saw but...

“I don’t like it.”

“Don’t suppose Giles likes it much.”

Xander made a face. “Giles wasn’t liking it even a little bit.”

“Lot of things Giles doesn’t like. Doesn’t stop him doing them.” Oz considered. “Can’t be easy for him, knowing he has to step up as a willing sacrifice. Wonder if it’s easier than what he usually does.”

“Huh?”

Oz shrugged. “Sending Buffy out and hoping she isn’t the sacrifice.”

Xander squirmed; he wasn’t liking the word. “When... with Angelus, it was Giles who was sacrificed. And he wasn’t _willing_ then. But he did it. Took it. Whatever.”

“Made himself willing. Willing for it to be him if the alternative was that it had to be her.”

“Yeah. And... Oz, did you hear? He didn’t say so, not exactly, but he thinks that I’m the sacrifice here. Or you. Not him. He was all, how awful for us to have to do this for him, not how awful for him to have to do it.”

There was silence for a moment and then Oz said thoughtfully, “Wonder what else he’s sacrificed.”

Xander frowned. “Like what?”

“Like his past. And his future.”

That was kinda heavy for Xander; he just waited to see if Oz would spill. Oz didn’t generally talk much, but even Xander knew that when Oz did talk, it would be smart to listen.

“I mean, all that about not wanting to be a Watcher, when he was young? Why should he, if he really didn’t want to?”

Xander shrugged. “Yeah, but there was the demon raising and the wrong sorts of friends. And he wants to now.”

“He thinks he owes the world something now, because of the demon raising,” corrected Oz. “Maybe if somebody hadn’t made such a big deal about him being a Watcher, he wouldn’t have done the demon raising.”

“Buffy said once that Giles had told her that he’d been ten when they told him he had to be a Watcher,” remembered Xander. “He’d wanted to be a pilot. Or a shopkeeper, I think she said.”

“Can’t see either of those working out for him, but, hey, career choices? Like I say, why shouldn’t he?”

Xander shrugged. “What did you mean about sacrificing his future?”

Oz looked faintly puzzled. “Not sure. Had a vague idea... Xander, do you ever get the idea that Buffy’s not what the Council expected a Slayer to be?”

He scoffed. “Only ’bout a dozen times a day. So what?”

“She’s not dead.”

“And Xander is taking the credit for at least one occurrence of that.”

“And Giles is still her Watcher.”

“Not in the eyes of the Council, who fired him.”

Oz’s snort showed what he thought of that. “Get the impression he’s old for a Watcher with a live Slayer.” He hesitated. “Get the impression she’s old for a live Slayer.”

“So?”

“So we know that Watchers can marry,” said Oz slowly, as if working it out. “Gileses are Watchers back through the generations, right? Why is Giles not married and breeding baby Watchers?”

“Because... who... O.K., was about to say, who would marry a librarian, but that’s dumb, yeah?”

Oz nodded. “He’s easy on the eye, right? Even I see that. He’s smart. He’s brave. Maybe at home he’s nothing out of the ordinary, but over here he’s got the whole English accent thing going for him. Miss Calendar wasn’t the only one at the school who was interested in him.”

“Maybe... maybe it’s what you said about Ethan Rayne? If Giles has been in denial...”

Oz shook his head. “He’s not gay. Not just gay. Bisexual, yeah: he and Miss Calendar were getting it on, and there was the woman who came to stay, and the band candy time, he and Mrs Summers were getting real friendly, and he said something about some time he wasn’t careful, and I’ve just realised, that was probably Mrs Summers, wasn’t it?”

“Way ahead of you, and putting that one into the denial box, and not ever mentioning it anywhere Buffy might hear.”

“Good idea. But Giles isn’t averse to spending time with the ladies, yeah? So... why isn’t he married?”

Xander scowled. “I don’t _know_ , Oz. Because he doesn’t want to be? Never met the right girl?”    

Oz nodded, one slow inclination of the head. “So it’s late for him. Maybe too late for him. He liked Miss Calendar, and she’s dead. Another sacrifice. Maybe what I’m thinking is that when Angelus killed her, he didn’t just sacrifice _her_ , he sacrificed Giles’ future as well.”

It took Xander a moment to get it. “You think Giles would have married _Miss Calendar_?”

“Why not?”

Because, because, because... “They’d got nothing in common. She was all techno pagan and he’s all stuffy librarian.”

“And she was generally against the vamps and so is he.”

“She was all computers and you know he thinks they’re only slightly better than the vamps!”

“And if she’d shown him how to buy books on Amazon, he’d have bankrupted himself in a week.”

“She took him to Monster Trucks!”

“He went. Yeah, he hated it, but she asked him and he went. They went to the game together. He asked her to stuffy foreign language movies and _she_ went. Xan, I’m not saying they would have been happy ever after. I’m saying he liked her a lot, and she liked him, and they might have had a future together. She blew him off over the Eyghon thing, but they got over it. But when he thought that she had betrayed Buffy, _he_ blew _her_ off. He chose Buffy over his chances with Miss Calendar.”

“And then they got together again and then she was dead,” said Xander bleakly.

“And maybe Giles’ chance of...”

“Wedding bells?”

“Why not? And children?”

“Giles doesn’t like children,” said Xander automatically. Oz flickered an eyebrow in a way that suggested he disagreed, but he said nothing. Xander meanwhile was following a thought of his own. “Buffy... she’s made sacrifices too, Oz. She had to kill Angel. Not that I think that she should ever have been hanging with him, but hey, true love ways and all that.”

“Crap,” said Oz, concisely; Xander stared.

“Huh?”

“‘Men have died from time to time and worms have eaten them, but not for love.’”

“ _Huh?”_

“All that about true love ways, and love conquers everything and just because you’re in love you should stop using your brains, and if it’s a bad romance it’s even more romantic than a good one, and there’s only ever one true love for anybody. It’s crap. Bullshit.”

“But... Buffy and Angel...”

Oz shrugged. “Not really my business, but I agree with you; she should never have gotten involved with him.”

“Huh? Nobody ever agreed with me!”

“Giles did.”

Xander's turn to shrug. “Giles sides with Buffy, always.”

Oz nodded slowly again. “Yeah. He thought she shouldn’t have done it, but he sided with her. He always does. What does that cost him?” He leaned back and hooked one knee over the arm of his chair. “Xander, you saw Giles after that time. You stayed at the apartment with him; so did I. You spent time at the hospital with him. You know how he was. And Buffy was gone, and he spent all his time looking for her.”

“And fielding grief from her mom.” 

“Yeah. And then she came back. Giles was pleased, and you and Willow were incredibly pissed at her.”

“She’d left us! She’d left us to, to do her stuff, and to look after Giles and, and...”

“You got over it.”

Xander twisted the hem of his shirt between his fingers, and didn’t look up. “She was miserable,” he said quietly. “About Angel. And all that stuff. I still think she shouldn’t have been hanging with him in the first place, but hey, they were in love. Ya couldn’t keep on at her when she was so miserable.”

“Yeah. She was in love. How many times have you been in love, Xander?”

Xander grinned. “Since Monday?”

He got a flicker of amusement back. “Big romance?”

“Tuesday.”

“Wedding bells and picket fences?”

“Have not so far crossed my mind. Gotta say, the family rôle models aren’t good that way.”    

“Think they’ve crossed Buffy’s mind?”

He laughed. “Doubt it. She’s always saying she wants the normal life but I can’t see it.”

“But Buffy and Angel, big romance, yeah?”

Xander looked awkward. “Bad one, but yeah, I guess.”

“And everybody forgives Buffy for any bad decisions she made, because it was a big romance gone sour.”

“Gone apocalyptically bad, but... well, yeah. She was miserable, Oz! You remember. Couldn’t keep giving her a hard time over it.”

Oz nodded. “So a Slayer starts a relationship with a souled vampire. Does that sound to you like it’s smart? Like it’s going anywhere good? No, me neither. But it was a big tragic romance. Young hearts, except his wasn’t, but what the hell. True love ways, like you said.”

“Yeah. So what?”

“So... how old do you have to be before you don’t count as ‘young hearts’? Before true love ways aren’t a big romance any more?”

“Huh?”

Oz shook his head, obviously frustrated. “Xan, why is it that a teenage girl can be forgiven anything because hers is a doomed romance, and a middle-aged man’s doomed romance – which is doomed because of the other romance – is... chopped liver?”

It felt like one of those reversing pictures, the sort where you’re looking at a picture of a girl, and suddenly it becomes an old woman, or a vase becomes two candlesticks. “You mean... Buffy and Angel, that’s the Romeo and Juliet, they’re the tragic hero and heroine. And Giles and Miss Calendar... we treated them like the comic relief.”

Oz nodded. “Angelus sacrificed Miss Calendar, and when he did, he sacrificed Giles. Giles’ future. Buffy’s young, she’ll fall in love again, you can count on it. For all we know, Giles and Jenny Calendar, that _was_ the big romance. Maybe the last one he’ll get.”

“And we never even noticed. We noticed when Giles was hurt, when he was bleeding. We didn’t notice anything else. Fuck. She was the sacrifice and then he was, and now he is again, and he’s still trying to make out that it’s somebody else.” He got up and roamed distractedly around the room. “Fuck. And... can we save him? Can we make it so that he doesn’t have to do this?”

Oz frowned and cocked his head. “How?”

“Well, hell, we know what has to be done. Why does it have to be Giles? If he doesn’t want to?”

Oz shrugged. “Who else?”

Xander smiled, without humour. “We know plenty guys, Oz. Some of them gotta count as virgins. I know I’m not the people’s choice of gay icon, but surely I could find a guy and do the deed?”

They both considered it, but Oz shook his head. “How would you be sure he was a virgin? And... you heard what Giles said about having to go bareback. You think somebody we know would do that? That’s a generational thing, Xan. You said yourself, you’ve seen the pictures. Any guy who was willing to go bare probably isn’t a virgin. Probably isn’t clean. Giles is both, and he understands what this is about. Giles has got his eyes open.”

Xander sighed. “Yeah. Yeah. But... we gotta... I gotta make it easy for him, right? Or at least as easy... He said quick and straightforward. I can do that. No strings, just... Yeah. I can do that.” He hesitated. “Or... I know you said he... Oz, are you really sure he wants me?”

“Tell him I’ll do it if he wants, Xan. He’d be better with you, but it’s his choice. Tell him. Go and look for him now?”   

He supposed so; Giles would have gone home, so Xander would go after him. He knew Giles well enough for that.

He knew Giles a hell of a lot less well than he had thought, though. O.K., he knew Oz was all thinky-guy – like Giles himself – and Xander wasn’t, but he was ashamed of himself that he’d never thought any of that about Giles and Miss Calendar. About Giles and Buffy. About Giles and anybody, really. Giles was just boring librarian Watcher-guy and Xander hadn’t ever really thought about _who_ Giles was, rather than _what_ he was. He’d completely missed that Giles might be interested in men; he’d completely missed that Giles might be interested in _him_ , although he still wasn’t sure that one had wings.

He’d better get a move on, if he was to make it to Giles’ apartment before dark. Still, if he didn’t... he would do what they all did: he would call Giles and ask to be picked up.

He would use Giles. Like he had criticised Buffy for using Giles.

He walked faster. That stopped, right now. It was one thing to make Giles look after everybody when they were kids in school. He wasn’t a kid any more. If he’d still been a kid he wouldn’t be thinking about having sex with Giles. And about how to make sure that Giles didn’t hate him afterwards.

He knocked at the door, put his hand to the handle – and waited. Bang the door and charge on in, yelling: that was what you did at home, where... that wasn’t respectful. That wasn’t what an adult did to his friends. O.K., his basement wasn’t a real home, but when Giles came to call he always knocked and waited; he didn’t assume that he was always welcome inside.

Giles opened the door, looking surprised; the look faded away into defeat.

“Ah. Xander.”

He didn’t invite him in; Giles never did. He stepped back, and Xander touched a finger to the cross in the doorframe and came in anyway.

“About your spell... Oz says to tell you he’ll do it if you want. Or I will.”

“Ah. Yes. Thank you.”

They looked at each other. Xander felt a load of stuff he didn’t want to say rising up: _I’m sorry about Miss Calendar_ and _would you really have married her?_ and _I’m a jerk_ and _Angel is past basic jerk-hood and into mega-jerkery_ and _do you really like me that way?_ and bit it all back. What came out was no better, though.

“So... not Ethan Rayne?” He winced, as Giles winced too.

“No.”

“It was true, though, what Oz said. Once David had... Once I’d realised that some of the times it was guys as well as girls, I did look at you. But I thought you’d never... I thought you were straight. I didn’t think I could say anything.”

“I would have said no if you had.”

Ow. Way to go with the ego-building. Giles saw that.

“I don’t mean that you, that you’re not... Xander, I don’t think you – or Oz, come to that – quite understand the depth of, of... When I was your age, homosexuality was legal, but it wasn’t respectable. It wasn’t decriminalised until well after I was born. It was illegal to have sex in an hotel room because that was a public place. There weren’t any words in general use for, for... All the terms were derogatory. The general feeling was ‘you say you can’t help it but you could if you really tried so don’t do anything about it’.”

“Don’t ask, don’t tell.”

“On a much bigger scale. Whatever thoughts I had – and I did, of course: I went to a boys’ boarding school apart from anything else, all rampant hormones and adolescent desperation; it didn’t matter what anybody’s orientation was, all we thought about was sex, and there was a fair amount of experimentation which didn’t mean anything – I repressed. I liked girls and I worked very hard at convincing myself that anything else was a teenage aberration, long since outgrown.” He turned away and sat at his desk. “By the time I knew that it wasn’t – and that it could be acceptable, or at least accepted – I was past the age of experimentation for its own sake. And there were risks which hadn’t been identified when I was young, and, well, it was just easier not to. I’d, I’d never acted on the, the desires, the thoughts. I knew other boys who had, and they, they either faced a scandal or they hid their natures completely. I was happy enough in relationships with, with women. If I looked at men, that, that was all I ever did.”

“Yeah. Window shopping.”

Giles dipped his head and smiled. “If you like.” The smile slipped. “I, I, if you’re willing... Are you willing? Then... I think it might be better to, to start the spell. It, it doesn’t commit you to anything. It commits me to the deed, but you can still change your mind. And, and even if you are willing, it doesn’t have to be, to be right now.” He ran down like a dud battery, and Xander, faced with this new insecure Giles, struggled for something helpful to say or do.

“Giles, have you _ever_ touched a guy... that way?”

Giles wouldn’t meet his eye, but he shook his head.

“’Kay. Let’s do the spell. Like you say, it doesn’t commit us to anything. And maybe we could... I dunno, sit on your couch here, and, and you could sorta get used to the idea?”

Giles stared. “Are you suggesting we, we...”

“Make out, I guess.” He grinned. “You’re all respectable-guy: I bet you don’t put out on a first date.” He tapped his chest. “Me, I’m not one of your pushy football types, all wandering hands and trying to get to fourth base straight off. I’m more your sneak up when you’re not expecting it... well, no, I’m not, that’s a lie. I’m your basic making out in a broom closet type. You got a broom closet?”

Giles, smiling despite himself, shook his head again.

“Couch it is, then. And I promise I’ll back off if you scream, and I’ll still respect you in the morning.”

“Like you ever did before.” And that nipped a little at Xander's conscience, but he let it pass, and just bounced down onto the couch, looking up at Giles expectantly and reminding himself: quick and straightforward. Giles deserved that.        


	3. Think Fast, Wolfman

Well, God alone knew what was going on in Giles’ head, because Xander _didn’t_ know. Xander barely knew what was going on in his _own_ head. He’d said... what he’d said and he’d more than half expected Giles to argue, but Giles just wandered off leaving Xander feeling more than a bit stupid. When he came back, he was holding a plastic pack.

“It’s, it’s quite straightforward, the spell,” he said, almost apologetically. “I’m just going to make a rough circle with salt – it doesn’t have to be precise – and light a candle. Then I have to stand in the circle holding the candle. I have to say the spell, all the way through to saying my name, and then I blow out the candle and that’s all. Then I’m committed.”

“Should be easy enough.” Xander was trying to sound as if he did this sort of thing all the time; he thought Giles was too, but it took Giles two attempts to light the candle and the flame wavered as he held it. Xander pretended not to see. He stood up again but it wasn’t like he could do anything more to help. He’d _been_ through this with Oz: there was nobody else. There wasn’t a deal better than this one. Giles knew what he was signing up for.

Giles began to speak, sounding all confident now that it was words, and Xander felt the tickle on his skin which he knew from Willow doing spells. There was a single beat of silence, and Giles said stolidly “Rupert Edmund Giles,” and blew out the candle.

Then they stood looking at each other.

“That’s it?” asked Xander, finally. Giles nodded, and put the candle carefully back on the shelf.

“I’ll just sweep up the salt.”

He made all tidy again, tipping the salt into the kitchen bin, and then looked at Xander who was standing rather helplessly watching.

 “I could, I could make us something to eat?” God, he said that so often: it was like he didn’t know how to start a conversation with Xander, and all he could ever think of to do was to feed him, but Xander shook his head. Giles looked uneasy again.

“Then...?” He backed away to the sitting room, Xander following, neither of them knowing how to make it to the next Big Thing. They stood, looking stupidly at each other for a moment; Giles suddenly cast a panicked glance at the couch and Xander realised that he _had_ to do something.

 “Hey, Big Guy, you needn’t look like I’m gonna do something Xandery and awful. It’s nothing... it’s not like you don’t know all the words. We’re just gonna find out what you like, that’s all.” It felt weird, putting the moves on Giles, rather than waiting for Giles to tell him what they had to do, but he’d already decided that he had to make like an adult. He reached for Giles’ hand, and gave a little tug to get him to come closer. Giles’ other hand flailed for a moment, and then he obviously got a grip on what was happening, and put it cautiously on Xander's waist.

O.K., this did feel weird. The girls he’d made out with had always been shorter than him, and David had been much of his own size. Giles was bigger. He wasn’t used to reaching up to kiss somebody. But he put his hand on Giles’ neck, and leaned in, and Giles tipped his head. Yeah. Giles knew the words, he’d done this with women. He knew how to _kiss_ , for heaven’s sakes.

Quick and straightforward. Quick and straightforward. He shivered a bit. He wanted to... he wanted to go real slow, he found, the way he never had with anybody else, because this was _Giles_ , this was _way_ more exciting... this was something he had dreamed about and fantasised about. The people he’d made out with before, it had always come as a surprise. He’d never known ahead of time that they were interested, and well, yeah, sure, he’d thought about what it would be like to kiss the girls at least, but he’d _never_ thought about kissing a guy until he’d found himself liplocked with David. And had _that_ ever been a surprise. But he’d thought about kissing Giles. He’d thought about it a _lot_. Now he wanted to do it, and he wanted to do it slowly and carefully and thoroughly and the way he never had with anybody before.

And that wasn’t right for Giles and this was about Giles, not about Xander. So, quick and straightforward. Press the buttons, flick the switches. Keep it light. But Giles’ mouth trembled against his own, and oh God, Xander wanted to make him do it again, and then to make it stop. He wanted to touch Giles so lightly that Giles would _want_ more, not to be brisk and businesslike and, and, and like _Faith_ , who was all clothes off, horizontal action, thanks and get out. But the Faith scene was what Giles wanted so that’s what Xander would give him.

And... he mustn’t, he absolutely _must not_ let it get away from him. The problem would be not asking Giles for anything more in future. Whatever Oz said about Giles wanting Xander, Giles had said enough about denial and repression to make it clear that Giles didn’t _want_ to want Xander. This wasn’t going anywhere in future. Quick and straightforward. He worked his chest against Giles, ran his hands up the strong back, and clung onto Giles’ shoulders while he nipped and sucked at Giles’ throat. Make like Faith. Get Giles all revved up, do the dirty, and get the hell out of the man’s... apartment.

And hope that it didn’t mean getting out of his life.

He came back for another kiss; Giles was breathing hard, but Xander didn’t think it was hot-let’s-get-down-to-it; it felt more like panic. He bit Giles’ lip lightly; went round to nip an ear lobe; put his hand in the middle of Giles chest and unfastened a button.

Giles shuddered. Xander would have liked to put it down to a shiver of pleasure, but he couldn’t. O.K., quick and straightforward but maybe not _that_ quick?

He started to walk backwards, fingers tangled with Giles’, giving little tugs to make him follow. And talk about conflicting signals: Giles _did_ follow, followed him all the way to the couch and sat, and let Xander push him onto his back and lie on top. Giles let Xander kiss him. Giles kissed back. Giles jumped when Xander ran a hand up his chest, and Giles’ breathing went short when Xander unfastened his shirt and kissed his collarbones, and even somebody like Xander who wasn’t exactly known as all perceptive-man could feel that Giles wasn’t enjoying this _at all_. But Giles didn’t try to stop him: Giles even took a share, pushing Xander's shirt up his back to touch his spine and rub his ribs. Giles didn’t try to stop Xander pushing his shirt free, and when Xander asked “Do you have sensitive nipples?” Giles nodded, and tried his thumb lightly on Xander's chest too.

But...

Yeah, Giles was telling the truth. Xander's tongue on his chest brought his nipples up into tight bumps, but... the moment Xander moved away from one to the other, the first one quit. Giles liked it, _but_. Giles rolled Xander's nipple between his fingers and Xander said “Oh, _yeah,_ ”and leaned a little the other way, hopefully, because he had two nipples and one of them felt left out. Giles obliged, and Xander went to a happy place, but Giles...

Didn’t.

He was trying. Xander could see he was trying. He didn’t ask Xander not to do... no, that wasn’t true. Xander slid a fingertip into Giles’ belly button and Giles bucked, not in a good way, and squawked, also not in a good way, and when Xander asked, “No?”, Giles shook his head apologetically. But he was trying. He took the point that Xander was doing what Xander liked done, and he touched Xander's belly button and tugged at the skin, and smiled when Xander made another happy noise. So that was cool, yeah? Now Xander knew something that Giles _didn’t_ like, and he wouldn’t do it again, no problem.

No, it was more what Giles wasn’t doing. Xander was all for the quick and straightforward – well, not on his own account, but on Giles’ – but he wasn’t stupid enough to make a try for below the waist until he felt some sort of interest.

And it wasn’t there. Xander was hard and more than ready to move on; Giles wasn’t. Xander was keeping his hands free, but the occasional glance, which he thought he was disguising quite well, and his thigh across Giles’, told him that it wasn’t working for Giles.

Well, maybe he was overdoing the ‘quick’. This must be strange to Giles on so many points: it was a spell, it was a man, it was a man half his age, it was _Xander_. Xander could see that even if Giles _had_ thought about men on occasion, and even if he _had_ thought about Xander, Xander would have been a complete no-no from the time they first met right up to graduation. Even once he’d turned eighteen, Giles was still working at the school, and Xander would have had a big ‘Hands Off’ sign over his head. So Giles would need to get past the whole ‘gay now’ thing, and the whole Xander thing, and the whole spell thing and it was hardly surprising if that was not having an encouraging effect on Little Giles.

O.K., Xander wouldn’t comment, he’d just pretend he hadn’t noticed, and that everything was going on quite the way they wanted it to. They had time, after all.

Three days and Xander was desperate enough to call Oz. It was humiliating; it would be beyond humiliating for Giles when he found out, and he would have to find out, and it was the only thing he could think of to avert the damn apocalypse.

He was there a good fifteen minutes early, nursing a cup of coffee he didn’t want, going over and over what he needed to say. When Oz, armed with his own cup of coffee, slipped into the seat opposite, Xander forgot his carefully edited script and just blurted, like he always did, the first thought in his head.

“Are you _sure_ that Giles isn’t straight?” And how dumb was that, because Giles had admitted it.

An eyebrow went up that quarter inch again.

“Certain.”

“Well, hate to say it, Oz, but you’re gonna have to... because it’s not working. I can’t, he doesn’t, I think you’ll have to.”

There was a moment’s silence, in which Oz looked at him curiously.

“Xander? You’re gonna have to finish at least one of those sentences, because at the moment I don’t get what you’re telling me.”

He waved helplessly. There were just _no words_ for how awful this was. Seventeen sorts of awful. And they were in a public place; he couldn't even curse.

“If the world isn’t to go off bang, you will have to fix it with Giles, because I can’t.”

Another long silence.

“Why not?”

Couldn’t he just die now and have it over with?

“He doesn’t want me to, and I can’t persuade him.” Well, score one for the Xan-man. He had managed to make Oz look surprised. “I think the wolf’s wrong.”

Oz shook his head. “Don’t think so.”

He dipped his own head, hid behind his fringe. “All right, maybe you’re right about him being... you know. Maybe you’re even right about... about him being interested in me. But... I can’t get him there. Oz, I’ve tried! I haven’t... I’ve tried not to babble, I haven’t said anything about happy ever afters, I’ve been _quick_ and _straightforward_ even though I’d rather cuddle, and if you ever tell anybody that I’ll kill you. I haven’t said anything to make him think that... that I’m judging that he’s never done it before. Or that I don’t want to do it. And he’s trying, I can tell he is. If we didn’t _have_ to, I think we could. I can get him so far and then, I think, I think, well, I know because I asked him and he admitted it.”

“Yeah? Admitted what?”

“I get him half way there and then he thinks about what’s riding on it and that is _not_ a good choice of words. About what has to happen and why. And then he panics. Thinks too much and God alone knows, I should have seen that one coming, right? Giles and thinking, _so_ not a surprise.”

“Should maybe have started him off like me, with a joint.”

Their eyes met and Xander grinned. “Yeah. Take the pressure off. But he doesn’t even like drinking in front of us; no way is he going to roll a fat one.”

“Bet he did back in the day.”

“Sex and drugs and rock and roll? Bet he did. But, you know, first time with anybody, it’s all bumping noses and who likes what and when it’s two tab As rather than a tab A and a slot B, it’s who’s gonna do what to who, and he jumps every time I touch him. I mean, literally, Oz. I put my hand on his knee and he cringes.” He lowered his voice carefully. “I haven’t dared go anywhere near his junk yet because I honestly think he would scream. And Oz, there’s an apocalypse coming.”

“And Giles isn’t.”

That was _so_ not an Oz comment that Xander blinked a bit. Got right to the point, though.

“So, do you think you could... because I’m out of ideas. I swear I’ve been as straightforward as I can. I haven’t asked him anything personal. I haven’t _told_ him anything personal. But he knows I’m wigged and he’s trying too hard. With you he, he might, I don’t mean to be rude but he might expect less.”

Oz pursed his lips, thinking, and got up. “Need sugar.” He went to the café counter, returning with more coffee for both of them, and two doughnuts, one of which he pushed at Xander.

“The wolf isn’t wrong. Sure of that. I still think you and Giles are the best choice for apocalypse aversion.”

“Yes, but...!”

“No, Xan, wait. I’m just thinking. O.K., I’ve known you were looking at him. Trying not to, I got that too, but you were looking at him, and that started when we were still at school.”

Xander felt the blush start somewhere round his toes. “I wouldn’t ever have... and Oz, Giles would _never_... not at school.”

Oz shrugged. “Didn’t think much of it. Most of us had a crush on some teacher at some point.” He smiled reminiscently. “I was _so_ in love with Miss Minton when I was twelve.”

“God, yeah. She used to wear those see-through shirts over sleeveless tops. Always used to hope that one day she’d forget the top.”

Oz laughed. “Forgotten that. Yeah, me too. But anyway, didn’t think much about you crushing on the G-man. I mean, I was surprised you were looking at a guy, because you were dating girls, but with the guy thing as given, Giles was perfectly likely.”

“Well, who else was there?”

“Larry? And several others. But if you were still in denial, Giles was there. Quite a few of the girls were crushing on him, so we can take it as read that he has sex appeal. And, look, not any of my business, but everybody knows things at home for you were not always of the good, so a solid male rôle model? And you used to get quite the rush when Giles had been out fighting. Could smell the pheromones off you.”

“That bloody wolf nose is going to get you into trouble.” He was cringing again.

“Not off him, not then. Pure adrenaline off him then. You were out of school before he ever looked at you that way. Suspect that was sheer self-control.”

“Yeah, well, now he doesn’t know how to let it go.” Xander tore a piece from the doughnut and rammed it into his mouth. “Honestly, Oz, I didn’t ask for anything. I didn’t swear undying love. I didn’t suggest that we sign on a house. But we _have_ to... we don’t have long. And he jumps every time I touch him. So will... will you...?”

Oz started to tear his own doughnut into pieces and to line them up around the edge of the plate.

“When you touch him.”

“Yeah. He jumps when I touch him. Does he when you do?”

Oz made a new pattern of doughnut pieces. “Don’t think I ever do touch him.” The pattern went to lines and then to circles, all arranged at the flick of a black tipped finger. Lines. Squares. Circles. Back to squares. “Xan... how many people have touched you today? Or you’ve touched?”

“Huh?”

“Even, I dunno, excuse-me-may-I-get-past touches. How many?”

Xander considered, with a look of some irritation. “Well... met my dad at the door. He was getting at me to find a job. He punched me on the arm. He thinks it’s what men do. My mom was there, she came to hug me and complain that they never see me, like she wasn’t the one who sent me to live in the basement. Had a job interview, didn’t get the job, guy shook my hand start and finish. Came over here to see you, met Willow outside, she hugged me on her way to class. You tapped me on the back. Got lost between the two blocks, asked directions, some woman put her hand on my wrist when I was pointing. Why?”  

“Just wondering how many people touched Giles today.”

“Guess that would be a big fat zero. He’s not touchy-feely guy.”

“And he hasn’t got a job, he hasn’t got anybody in that apartment chasing him out to work, sending him off with a kiss. I don’t touch him. Willow does, but when did he see her last? Buffy doesn’t except to hit him when they spar. You don’t. Miss Calendar’s gone, Mrs Summers, I’m never sure if they’re speaking or not, but I can’t see her touching him. Wondering if he’s just not used to it.”

Xander stuffed the rest of his own doughnut into his mouth and eyed up Oz’s. “Likely not used to being touched by a man,” he said despondently, through a mouthful of sugar. 

“No, might be right there. And...” Oz for a moment went totally blank-faced, before turning back to Xander with a look of such horror that Xander swallowed the huge lump of doughnut, coughed, and automatically reached for the stake. “Oh, sweet mother of music.”

“What? What?”

“Xan... the last _man_ to touch Giles? The last man to touch Giles with real intent?”

It was only a beat before Xander caught up. “Angelus,” he breathed. Oz nodded, looking sick.

“And now he’s twitchy when you touch him.”

“He had... after that, when I was staying at the apartment at night, he had nightmares. He talked in his sleep.”

Oz nodded. “The one where Angelus told him how much area was covered by a man’s skin, and how long he might live with it taken off? Gave me nightmares too.”

“I got the one about losing his senses one at a time, because Angelus intended to blind him, and burst his eardrums, and take off his nose and tongue and fingers. Yeah, after that I had nightmares.”

“And there was something about power tools and...”

“Castration. Yeah. I woke him up from that one and he knocked me over.”

Oz pushed the plate with the dismembered doughnut away from him. “Not surprising if he’s nervy around being touched. And... oh dear God. Do you think Angelus...” He gagged and stopped, and Xander again took a moment to catch up.

“Fuck. Fuck. He... No, Oz, he can’t have, can he, because Giles is... eligible. For the spell.”

Oz let his breath out with a rush. “True. He can’t have. But... I bet he threatened it. Bet he... bet there was bad touching. And Giles... Giles wouldn’t do anything, wouldn’t go for therapy, or see anybody, or talk to anybody. He’d just bottle it all up and pretend it didn’t matter.”

Xander swallowed hard. “I think I said I would make him scream.”

They looked at each other in dismay.

“Xan? Don’t care what Giles said, but brisk and straightforward or whatever it was?”

“Yeah. _So_ not the way to go.”

“You’ll need to... I dunno. Seduce him?”

Xander looked horrified. “How? Can’t exactly... Oz, he’s twice my age, and compared with me, he’s rich. He’s not gonna be impressed by popcorn and a movie, and I can’t exactly take him back to my basement and show him my etchings.”

Oz shook his head. “He doesn’t need to go places he feels vulnerable with you. He needs to stay home where he can feel safe. He needs... gentleness? Kindness?”

Xander flinched. “And he’s gonna take that from me?”

“Well, you said you like to cuddle and it doesn’t sound like he gets it anywhere else. Can you do that? If we think of a way?”

“Think fast, wolfman. Need a Plan.”


	4. Don't Let Them Bury You, Giles

It was still daylight when he checked the contents of his jacket pocket for the eleventy-zillionth time, and knocked on Giles’ door. _Still_ his hand went automatically to the doorknob. Was gonna be a hard habit to break, but, well, his mom had wandered down to his basement that morning while he’d been... fortunately he’d still been under the covers, but he’d had to stick a knee up, tenting the sheets to disguise what he’d been doing, and he’d been ticked at the discovery that even when he was paying rent, he wasn’t entitled to have a genuinely private space. She was his mom, and he did love her, but he _still_ didn’t want her just walking in; he didn’t doubt that Giles was fond of all of them, but just the same, he’d be surprised if the G-man didn’t have times when he could do without people just barrelling in through his door without _ever_ asking. So he knocked, and he waited for Giles to answer the door.

“Hey, Big Guy. Is this a bad time?”

“Not, not at all.” Giles, as usual, stepped back; Xander put a hand out to... the cross had been changed for a thing that looked like a trident, but Giles was watching so he touched that and came in.

“Um, Giles, wanted to ask you something, yeah?”

Giles looked politely enquiring; the strain of all this was telling on him, Xander thought. He could see it round Giles’ eyes.

“Look, I know we’ve got the spell to think about, but we’ve got until after the weekend, and it’s been a rough couple of days for both of us. Would you mind if we just hung, tonight? Didn’t... ya know?”

The spectacles were coming off. “I, I, I’m a little concerned about...”

“Yeah.” Xander interrupted him before he might have to identify what he was concerned about. “So am I. But honestly, Giles? Been a long week. You’ve been researching and I’ve been failing to find a job – nothing new there for either of us – and I could do with just hanging out.”

Giles looked wistfully back at his desk. “Did you, did you want to go out somewhere? Or, I don’t know... do something?”

He shook his head. “Really? Just want not to be at home. It’s got loud there.”

That had been a No Entry sign for so long that Giles backed down at once. “Oh well, if you can, if you can amuse yourself for an hour or so? I have a translation which really needs to be completed and it’s giving me rather a lot of trouble.”

Xander looked across the room. “I believe you. How many of these books are you using?”

Giles wrinkled his nose. “I had to unpack two boxes to find the ones I wanted. I, I was intending to shelve them, which is why I kept them out, but the translation is taking longer than, than I thought.”

That was a gift from the gods and Xander took it.

“So you go on with your translation and I’ll shelve these.”

Giles gave him a look of some disbelief.

“Look, I’ve been made to feel slightly less useful than a rubber hammer today. I can shelve books. I know you think I can’t...”

“I know you can. Alphabetically by author, please, and then title.”

He grinned. “Trust me with the alphabet?”

He got a flicker of the old Giles in return. “I am perfectly well aware that your pronouncements that you didn’t know your alphabet started off as an attempt to get out of the cross-referencing work and ended up as a running joke against me.”

“Damn. Foiled again.”

“I believe you mean ‘Curses! Foiled again.’”

He stared, derailed. “Is it an actual quote?”

“I don’t think so. It ought to be Sherlock Holmes, but I think it’s actually The Goon Show. There’s a Collected Sherlock Holmes somewhere; feel free to look it up.”

“What’s The Goon Show?”

“It’s beyond explanation. English humour which absolutely doesn’t translate. Go on, shelve something. When, when you get down a stratum or two, you’ll probably find my wallet. When you do, phone for takeaway. I, I _think_ I’ve got the guts of this now, but there’s another page or so to do.”

“Cool. What do you fancy?”

Giles was already turning back to his desk. “I don’t much care. You like pizza best, so that’ll do. Oh, and Xander? Rubber mallets are, are very useful.”

He shook his head, smiling, and set about the boxes. Forty minutes later he did indeed encounter Giles’ wallet, and he went through to the kitchen. There was a small collection of takeout menus on top of the microwave; he picked his way through them, and then went to lift the telephone.

Giles, fully focused on his translation, didn’t even look up.

When finally he closed the tome from which he had been working, the floor and couch were clear of books, and Xander was setting out plates.

“God, I didn’t even hear that arrive. What... oh, not pizza?”

“You like Chinese better.”

“Well, yes, but...”

“I ordered the chicken and cashew nuts because you’d marked it on the menu; I’m hoping that was ‘hey, this is good’ and not ‘brings me up in hives’?”

Giles shook his head. “It’s my favourite.”

“Translation all finished? Evening off?” Xander tipped his head to one side and tried to look cute. It didn’t seem to work: Giles looked suspicious.

“If you, if you have something in mind?”

“Told you, just hanging. Oh, hey, this is the Szechuan shrimp. Want some?”

Giles did; between them they cleared most of the containers, to the point at which even Xander admitted that it wasn’t worth saving the leftovers. He cleaned up while Giles made tea; then, before Giles could suggest more work, he gave him a little push towards the corner and his record collection.

“Music, Giles. Put something on. Pick something you really like.”

Giles looked at him suspiciously. He shrugged. “You look wrecked. I feel wrecked. We could both do with a rest. Play some music. You won’t like mine and I don’t know yours. Teach me your strange English ways.”

“Not until you tell me why. You’re up to something.” Giles looked suspicious, and more than suspicious: he looked anxious.

“I just thought...”

He was pinned by the Giles Glare. “You just thought you could flannel me. You thought wrong.” There was a suggestion of irritation in his voice; Xander thought it best to give way. He wanted Giles calm and relaxed; starting from ticked wouldn’t get them there.

“Look, I know I... O.K. Try again, Xander. What we’ve been doing hasn’t been working for you, I know that.”

The irritated look mutated slowly towards embarrassment. “I, I, it...”

“Hey, not working for me either. So I thought, try something different.”

“What?”

“Let me look after you a bit?” It sounded really silly, and Giles frowned. Xander ploughed on. “No sex. That’s the first thing. I wasn’t lying, Giles, honest. It’s not been a good week for either of us, and I think if we go on with what we’ve been doing, it’ll go on not working and you’ll get worried and I’ll get frustrated and I just mean... I don’t mean...”

“I know what you mean. I, I do _appreciate_ what you’ve been doing, Xander. You’ve, you’ve not pushed at all and I’m sorry that I, that I’m, that we haven’t been able to go on faster. To get this _over_. For both our sakes.”

“Yeah, well, see, that’s my point, kinda. You’re thinking too much about the end result. Journeys and destinations, yeah? I thought, a night when we agree up front, _no sex_ , and then you let me make you feel good other ways?”

Giles gave a tight smile. “By shelving my books?”

Xander didn’t smile back. “By noticing that the work doesn’t stop for you, and doing some of it so that you don’t have to, yeah.”

“And by choosing the food that I like rather than the food you do.” He looked down and then back at Xander, with a twist of his mouth. “I’m not very gracious, am I? What else have you in mind?”

“Humour me, yeah? The only rule tonight is, no sex. So... I got some ideas, and if you could just... not _argue_ all the time?”

Giles looked uncomfortable. Xander went on. “Look, I’m not saying that if I suggest something you hate, you have to do it. I’m saying, stop looking for hidden meanings. This is Xander: I don’t do subtle. I don’t get subtle if other people do it to me either, so if you really don’t like something I suggest, best to say so. But so far I’m saying, you got a record collection which presumably is full of stuff you like. Play something. You choose. I’m voting for something soothing, because my next idea is that you drink your tea and then you lie down on your couch and relax a bit, turn off. So not something from your grunge period.”

Giles glared again. “I do not have a grunge period. I passed on grebo, too, and I hated Madchester.” He began to flick through album covers, frowning, but Xander wasn’t fooled. That glare had merely been for form’s sake. “If you want soothing, it’s classical. But you’ll presumably hate that, so... he’s not English, he’s Canadian, but if I choose _Various Positions_ , will you snigger?” And that was an olive branch.

Not as big an olive branch as the one that followed: Xander had gone to sit at one end of the couch, expecting Giles to ignore what he had said about lying down and relaxing. Giles, though, sat down beside him with his tea cup, and then, when that was empty – rather awkwardly, but without hesitation – turned and eased down until his ankles were hooked up on one armrest, and his neck was against Xander's thigh. His face was tight, and his whole posture was tense, but it was exactly what Xander had intended, and he said so.

“Yeah. Like that. Now, shut your eyes and chill. If you’ve gotta think, and you’re Giles, I can’t imagine that you ever just shut the brain down, then think: there’s nowhere else you need to be and nothing else you need to be doing.”

“God, there’s _always_...”

“Yeah, I know, but not tonight. Tonight this is what you should be doing. And Giles? This is my scheme.” Well, it was his and Oz’s, but introducing Oz was probably an unnecessary complication. “You don’t have to do anything. In fact, I want you not to do anything. Don’t do anything back to me. Just tell me if I do something you don’t like, O.K.?” He put his hand on Giles’ head and felt the startle, hastily suppressed. Well. He could touch the man’s hair without frightening him, surely? And Giles had nice hair, thick and springy, even if he did have more forehead now than he’d had when Xander knew him first. He let his fingers slip to Giles’ temple and then over the top of his head, and set to combing through slowly, over and over.

Giles sighed.

’Kay, he hadn’t expected that. He’d hoped to get Giles to relax and then to go looking for some sort of touch the Big Guy _did_ like, but he hadn’t expected to score straight off. Giles liked having his hair stroked? That was _easy_. He could do that. Slow and gentle, temples and crown and as far as he could get towards Giles’ neck. Yeah, Giles liked that. The lines around his eyes and mouth were smoothing out, and presently he reached for his collar, tugging impatiently at his necktie until Xander leaned over to pull it free. He’d have liked to unfasten the button as well, but thought better of it; shut up, Xander, don’t talk, don’t do anything except stroke the G-man’s hair.

The not talking was gonna kill him; babble came so naturally to him that _not_ doing it was almost painful, but he concentrated on the feel of Giles’ hair. Shut _up_ , Xander. His reward came in another minute, when Giles fumbled at his throat and undid his own button. Xander's free hand was along the back of the couch, and his shoulder was beginning to ache from the angle, so he lifted it, and... no. Not just dump it on Giles’ chest. He twisted a little, to get both hands into Giles hair, and scratched gently on his scalp.

Giles made a happy noise.

The angle was awkward, so he let the spare hand drift, keeping it on Giles so it wouldn’t be a surprise. Cheekbone. Jaw. Throat, shoulder, middle of his chest and just stop. Just let it lie. The other hand went on working in Giles’ hair, until Xander said quietly, “If you turned over I could rub your neck.”

Wrong. Giles tensed at once, and Xander bit his tongue. Turning over would put Giles’ face in Xander's lap and how scary was _that_ for a beginner? It had taken David a month to persuade Xander even to think about a bj. Nowadays, the only thing he liked better than getting one was giving one, but... He recovered.

“Go on, turn on your side, that way.” He gave Giles’ shoulder a little push. “Turn your back on me.”

’Kay, that worked. Giles shifted, shoulder against Xander's thigh. Neck available. Everybody liked neck rubs, didn’t they? Everybody liked having their shoulders stroked and... Giles was tense again.

Back to the hair. Xander was getting _good_ at this. Crown to nape and out wide to shoulder. Crown to nape to shoulder. Crown to... and there was Giles relaxing. Hah. Xander found himself smug: Buffy wasn’t the only one who could save a bad situation on the fly. He gave the shoulder another little shove and Giles turned further, cheek against Xander's knee, both shoulders available now.

Half a track of whoever this guy with the gravel voice was, just on what he was doing, crown to shoulders, shoulders to crown, no further, and then the next track sweeping a little lower each time until he was half way down Giles’ back and Giles hadn’t tightened up once.

And Xander was... Xander was enjoying it too. Xander was having a serious attack of ‘look what I can do!’ He let his fingers drift over the tops of Giles’ shoulders, and dragged them back, pressing hard, and Giles groaned. He pushed the heel of his hand down Giles spine and Giles flexed against him. It would have been easier if he’d been able to put Giles flat and kneel over him but... not yet. He just kept going, until the Canadian stopped growling, and the room was quiet except for the sound of them both breathing.

When he leaned over, Giles had his eyes shut.

“Hey, Big Guy, you asleep?”

“Not far off it.” Giles sounded faintly embarrassed; Xander gave a little huff of amusement.

“Let me up?”

Giles sat up, and rubbed one hand awkwardly over his face. “I... thank you. That was...”

“That was just the start, yeah? Feel good?” He knew it did but he wanted to make Giles say so out loud.

“Yes. Yes, it did. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, you put your record away and fix yourself a Scotch, yeah?”

“Bossy, aren’t you?” enquired Giles mildly.

“You said you wouldn’t argue,” objected Xander, hoping that Giles wouldn’t notice that he had never actually agreed to it. “And don’t you want a nice drink?”

“A small one would be pleasant,” conceded Giles. “What are you planning?”

“Think you should have a bath. Nice hot bath, Scotch, phone off the hook, book, nobody asking you to do anything?”

“Not a book,” objected Giles. “The steam is bad for them. The covers swell.”

“Yeah, I know. And I know you have a stash of Travis McGee novels, and every last one of them is soggy round the edges.”

“Damn. How did you find out?”

“Found them when I was shelving for you after graduation. Gonna let me run you a bath?”

“Apparently I’m not allowed to argue,” said Giles, mildly.

“Yay, I shoulda thought of this years ago. ’Kay, you go pour your drink and get that tweed off, I’ll fill your bath. Do you go all macho about no bubbles?”

“I have no strong opinions either way. There’s some stuff I use occasionally which is supposed to be good for sore muscles.”

“Gonna let me wash your back?” Xander deliberately didn’t look round. If the answer to that was going to be ‘no’, it could be passed off as a joke.

“I told you, I’m not allowed to argue.” There was enough doubt in Giles’ tone to make it plain that he wasn’t certain either if the suggestion had been serious.

“Liking this more and more. Be right back.”

He put a sizeable splash of the muscle-soothing stuff in the hot water; he had every intention of staying to wash Giles’ back unless Giles went completely up-tight on him, and he thought that nice non-see-through bubbles would probably help. Well, that had been Oz’s idea; the small bag which Xander had stashed behind the couch contained, among other things, a bottle of bubble bath which Oz had sniffed and pronounced to be ‘probably masculine enough for Giles’, but his own familiar one would be better. He sat on the edge of the bath and watched it fill until he heard the door open.

He’d seen Giles in a bathrobe before. Hell, he’d seen Giles mostly naked before. Demons meant slime and Giles had the available bathroom, and the post-patrol rule was that the girls went first – Xander had tried once to explain to Giles how sexist that was, and both Buffy and Willow had told him to shut up – and nobody took longer than they _absolutely_ had to, to make sure that the hot water would stretch to all of them. So Giles with a towel knotted around his waist or Giles in his robe, not new. Only suddenly, there was the awareness that under the robe was naked Giles. And how dumb was that? _Anybody_ was naked under their clothes; that was how clothes worked. Xander felt the heat rise in his cheeks, but he kept his voice steady.

“Is that too hot?”

Giles trailed his hand through the water and shook his head wordlessly. He hesitated, and just for a moment Xander thought he would say something implying Xander should go, but he didn’t: he shrugged the robe off, just dropping it on the floor and stepped into the water.

O.K., another surprise. Giles was obviously trying to do what Xander wanted; Xander could make it easy. That was the whole point of this, right? Make it easy. He picked up the robe and turned to hang it on the peg on the door, deliberately not looking at Giles until he was decently in the bath. Then he closed the toilet lid and sat down, looking carefully at Giles’ face and no lower.

“Nice?”

“Lovely,” said Giles, with conviction. “I don’t generally bother – I, I shower because it’s quicker. I only take a bath when I’ve overdone things, when I’m stiff.” And suddenly he blushed, a bright flaming red, and Xander bit the inside of his cheek and pretended he hadn’t heard any double meaning at all, while Giles snatched up the glass of Scotch he had left on the side of the bath and hid his face in it.

“Should make some time for yourself more often,” Xander observed; Giles shrugged, recovering his self-possession. They sat, in a not unpleasant silence, while Giles finished his drink; the minute he had, Xander took the glass from him and set it to one side.

“ _Are_ you gonna let me wash your back?”

Giles turned his head to look at him, and for a moment the question hung between them, before he eased himself forward in the water and wrapped his arms around his knees.

“If you like.”

It wasn’t a rousing endorsement but Xander would take what he could get; he came to kneel beside the bath, reaching for soap and washcloth. This time Giles didn’t jump when Xander touched him; that was progress, surely? He kept the touch gentle and the strokes slow, the same as he had done before, and Giles seemed to relax under them again. Xander rinsed, and the water slipped away unevenly along the white marks; he traced one of them with light fingers, around Giles’ ribs.

“They’re not attractive.”

Xander shrugged. “They’re just... they’re part of you. Literally, I suppose. And part of what you do.”

Giles made a faintly unhappy sound. “The Council wouldn’t agree with you. Watchers don’t fight alongside their Slayers. God alone knows why they teach us to fight and then say we shouldn’t.”

“Because they’re dorks?”

Giles snorted. “It’s as likely an explanation as any I can come up with.” His head tipped forward a little more; Xander slowly soaped a shoulder, and under Giles’ arm. “In the funeral service for a Watcher who’s had an active Slayer...”

“The _what_?”

He could see Giles smile, his cheek against his own knee, his eyes shut. “The Council has a chapel and a burial plot, and any Watcher who wishes may be buried there. There’s a specific form of the burial service for Watchers who have had an active Slayer. It, it’s quite common for the Watcher to die with or shortly after the Slayer; suicide is never mentioned, it’s always said that the Watcher was killed by vampires or demons, but fairly frequently it’s down to doing something reckless or stupid.”

“Fuck,” said Xander, with conviction. Giles smiled again.

“The Giles family has no history of, of early death that way, although I’m the seventh Watcher to have had a Slayer. My grandmother lived into her seventies and my father is still alive. Both of them had Slayers.”

“Oh. Good.”

“But the service actually refers to a Watcher as having ‘all his wounds before him’. They couldn’t say that of me.”

Xander couldn’t quite make out what Giles was saying. His voice was odd; there was something more to this than he was getting.

“What do they mean?”

“Hmm? Oh, that however badly the front of his body was scarred, he was unmarked behind. Never turned his back on a fight. Never wounded running away. Injuries on your back are shameful.”

“ _Fuck!_ ” Xander washed and rinsed again, the fury thick in his mouth like blood. “Giles, even I can see how dumb that is, and I’m not all brains guy. That falls down _so_ many places... How can they have that in their funeral service, that a Watcher can be wounded, if you’re not expected to fight?”

“I asked that once during my training. Never got a good answer.” Giles sounded half asleep, but he wasn’t; his muscles shifted under Xander's hands.

“And... I’ve seen you wade into a fight when there were vamps all round you, and any one of them might have hit you anywhere. It’s not like a, a, not like it’s an Olympic sport with rules – one vamp at a time, no hitting a man when he’s down. You’re _more_ likely to be hit behind, because that’s where you can’t see!”

“I’ve taught you something, then.”

“Yeah. You’ve taught me that we all need somebody watching our backs. And that the Council of Watchers is full of, of, of... Don’t let them bury you, Giles. I mean, primarily on account of you not being dead, but if they’re gonna be that dumb and pissy about it, don’t let them.”

Giles shrugged and his skin shifted, glossy, under Xander's hands. “They fired me. Stopped my health insurance and pension contributions. I imagine I fell out of the funeral plan too.”

“Well, good, because they don’t deserve to have you. And none of your marks are shameful, none of them.” He sounded fierce – hell, he felt fierce.

Giles sat up abruptly and held out his arm. “That one is.”

Xander opened his mouth to argue but Giles shook his head. “You can’t deny it, Xander. That one _is_.”

“You could get it removed. They can do that. Buffy did.”

He shook his head. “It... reminds me. Keeps me on track.”

“Then it’s not shameful. Maybe it was when you got it. Now it’s...” He struggled for words. “It’s just skin. They’re all just skin.”

Giles leaned back again and shut his eyes; Xander opened his mouth and closed it, at a loss to know what else he might say.

“Thank you.” It was very quiet.

Still no words came, not even babble. It was becoming awkward. All that occurred to him was to reach for Giles’ hand and to start applying soap, to run his own hand over wrist and elbow and twisting tattoo, to wash away not the mark, but the hurt. He took the other hand, did the same, fingers slow over the ridges of damaged bone. When he looked up, Giles was watching him; deliberately, he washed the hurt fingers again, and they trembled in his grasp.

“Lift your chin?”

He washed Giles’ chest, neither ignoring nor regarding the way his nipples tightened under the washcloth, and slid the cloth down as far as his waist. Then he deliberately shifted and reached for a foot.

“Are you ticklish?”

“Averagely.” Giles seemed to be amused, and Xander was glad of it. Too much heavy talk and none of it good for making the G-man relax. He washed a foot and ankle, a shin and half way up Giles’ thigh, and changed legs. Rinse and repeat. Then he backed off.

And Giles, whether from the relaxation, or the Scotch, or plain flat Giles-y courage, didn’t.

“You’ve missed a bit.”

He stared back. “A big bit?”

“Sometimes.”

“That was careless of me. Shall I wash it now?”

He saw Giles take a breath.

“Please.”

He leaned in close enough to whisper. “I won’t change my mind. _No sex._ ”

“Even so.” That might have been relief.

He kept his eyes on Giles’ face, and slid one hand under the water. Giles didn’t move.

And _that_ was Giles’ cock. The water made it difficult to tell what it was like: felt like a nice handful, even though he wasn’t erect. Not fully erect, although there was definite movement there. He explored to the tip; that must be... O.K., Giles wasn’t cut. Not a problem, David hadn’t been either: he knew what to do with that. He squeezed lightly, and Giles’ eyes opened wide and then half closed again. He went on: Giles’ balls, heavy even in the water. Giles opened his thighs deliberately, his expression... he was a little tight around the mouth. This was courage rather than desire, but Xander would take what he could get. He let his fingers slip further, watching to see if Giles’ mouth would tighten further, but Giles was onto him: he saw the deliberate breath and relaxation. He didn’t say anything: that Giles was brave was _so_ not breaking news. He kept his touch light: to and fro, to and fro... and once for luck. Then he pulled his hand away. Nothing more.

When Giles shut his eyes again, Xander had a brief panic: he didn’t _know_ how to seduce somebody.  

“Bloody cocktease.”

Oh. Like that, apparently. “Not teasing at all. I told you what the rules were for tonight.”

“Mm.”

They sat another five minutes or so; Xander dried his hands slowly and tried to work out what came next. He knew where he wanted Giles, but not how to get him there; eventually he decided just to say it.

“You’ll go all pruney if you sit in there much longer. Wanna get out and clean your teeth and do whatever you do on your way to bed?”

Giles didn’t argue (yay!), just reached for the plug.

“I’ll wait for you upstairs.” That was the one which was difficult. That was deliberate invasion of Giles’ private space, and yeah, Giles tightened around the mouth again, but Xander waited, and Giles nodded.

He tried to keep it simple; didn’t take his bag up, just collected the thing he wanted and left everything else. He didn’t sit on Giles’ bed either; he felt sensitised, like he’d had a layer of skin removed and he could feel everything that would make Giles uncomfortable. He didn’t really have a place here, and he’d invited himself in, but he could at least behave like a polite guest. Not just taking over: if he took his bag upstairs it looked like he meant to stay; if he sat on Giles’ bed it would be like declaring that he had rights.

He waited, and presently he heard the toilet flush and a minute later Giles appeared, smelling of toothpaste, and not hesitating the way Xander had feared but unsmiling and with his robe belted so tightly around him that the front was all twisted.

Xander got in before he could speak.

“’Kay, I’m not gonna do anything weird, I swear. Nothing I haven’t done already, actually. Can you put some shorts on, or pyjama pants or something?”

Giles nodded, shortly, and went to a drawer; Xander turned his back ostentatiously.

“What now?”

He looked over his shoulder. Giles stood in the middle of the floor, still in his robe.

“’Kay. This off? And then you lie down on the bed, on your front, and if I can sit beside you, I’ll rub your back. I got some stuff, it doesn’t smell of anything and they swore to me it wouldn’t stain your linens.” They’d actually promised him that it wouldn’t stain ‘her’ linens, and he’d felt no desire to explain. “It felt good when I did it downstairs, didn’t it? This will be good too. And if you wanna go to sleep, you just can.”

Giles’ face was easing. “That’s all?”

He nodded; Giles unbelted his robe. He had chosen shorts and his skin was still rosy and damp from his bath.

“Can I pull this back?” Xander wasn’t touching Giles’ bed without permission, but Giles nodded indifferently, and he yanked the covers down over the footboard, and gestured extravagantly for Giles to lie down.

He got a faint smile, and grinned back, mind racing. He would never have imagined Giles to be... For fuck’s sake, he ought to know better. Giles _wasn’t_ what any of them had thought. He _had_ to stop seeing Giles the way he had when he’d been sixteen. Then Giles had been tweedy and boring when actually he’d been knowledgeable. Then Giles had been cautious and tentative, when actually he’d been careful and incredibly courageous. Then Ripper had broken out, and they’d all been shocked, and they’d gone all the other way and assumed that Giles had the morals of an alley cat and now it seemed that Giles was inhibited and... well, with men he was inhibited. And he was still knowledgeable and courageous and trying _not_ to be inhibited and Xander was gonna help. And if he’d seen Giles – if he’d _not_ seen what he should have seen, then probably Giles hadn’t seen Xander right either, because Giles wasn’t seeing Xander as patient and encouraging and loving and all the things Xander wanted to be with Giles.  

And wait, what? _Loving?_

He suddenly realised that he was staring at Giles, and that Giles was looking back, the faint smile dropping from his face and an expression of discomfort replacing it. He blinked, and shook his head. “Sorry, Big Guy, just zoned out for a moment.”

“Is, is something the matter?”

“Not a thing. Come on, take the robe off, and lie down and chill some more. Get comfortable.”

Giles lay down, but the set of his shoulders made it plain that he _wasn’t_ comfortable. Xander kicked his shoes off, and climbed up beside him. Ideally he wanted to straddle Giles’ hips and no way was the Big Guy ready for that. Instead, he knelt beside him, and flipped the top of the little oil bottle.

“Almond oil,” said Giles.

“Huh?”

“If they told you that was scentless, they lied.”

“Oh. Do you mind?”

“It’s a pleasant enough scent.”

It was. He dripped a tiny amount into his palm to warm, like it had said in the book he and Oz had spent half the afternoon with. Then he set one hand at each of Giles’ hips, and smoothed across his back and up to his shoulders.

Giles groaned again.

Good start.

It took him twenty minutes to have Giles reduced to limp noodleyness. The Big Guy, having once given in, gave in totally; his eyes were shut, his face was peaceful and he was so relaxed that the only thing which seemed to trouble him was Xander stopping. Eventually, though, Xander trailed light fingers down his spine, and whispered, “You asleep, Giles?”

“Yes,” murmured Giles. “Or as near as makes no odds.”

“Can I stay tonight? Sleep on the couch?”

There was a long moment’s hesitation. “Seems a bit pointless you being uncomfortable down there. There’s room up here for both of us.” It was nervous but definite.

“You sure? I don’t mind the couch and...”

“’m sure.”

He couldn’t resist it: he leaned down and brushed a kiss over the back of Giles shoulder. “I won’t be long.”

He checked the door, turned off the lights, went to rinse his hands and face and brush his teeth. He’d got a toothbrush and spare shorts in his bag; he’d always intended asking to stay but this invitation to Giles’ bed was way more than he’d dared to hope. He changed, and in the quiet of Giles’ bathroom, he jerked off swiftly and efficiently. He’d been hard since half way through the evening, and he wasn’t gonna spoil things now, having told Giles repeatedly ‘no sex’, by plainly wanting something that wasn’t on offer.

He went to Giles’ bed.


	5. Not 'Only' Anything

It took him a moment to work out where he was and what was going on, when he woke. He was in Giles’ bed – which was good – and Giles was engaged in a deadly battle with the bedclothes – which was not.

“Giles – Giles! Wake up? Giles?”

He knew the precise moment Giles woke, because he went absolutely still. Not the sort of ‘oh God I was having a nightmare’ still that slowly softens into relaxation again, but a tense ‘where’s the threat’ stillness that Xander had seen in him before, during a vamp hunt.

“Giles? Think you were having a bad dream. You O.K.?”

“I – Xander?”

“Yeah. Just Xander. ’s O.K., Big Guy, you were having...”

“A nightmare, yes. I, I’m sorry, I woke you.”

“Probably as well you did. You were fighting the comforter, and I think you were losing. What were you dreaming?”

“I... I don’t quite know. It’s a bit, a bit confused. I don’t remember.”

And that was one stonking no holds barred lie, Xander could tell, not that he was going to call him on it.

“Hey, it’s cool, it’s just part of the deal, right? I guess we all get them. Come on, lie down again.”

“What time is it?”

He squinted at Giles alarm clock. “Just gone three.” There was a little light from somewhere outside; not enough for him to see Giles’ face. “Too early to start the day. Lie down again, Giles. Go back to sleep.” He dared to put a hand on Giles shoulder and gave him a little tug.

“I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Yeah, you said. It’s O.K.”

Giles settled back down, turned on his side, curled up; Xander wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. It might be Giles getting comfortable and going back to sleep; it might be Giles blocking out Xander. He would have liked to wrap an arm over Giles but that might be too much; he settled for turning the same way, and resting his hands against Giles’ back.

The quiver was tiny but unmistakeable. He thought at first that it was _because_ he was touching Giles, but Giles wasn’t trying to move away. If anything, he had shifted the tiniest fraction of an inch _towards_ Xander.

And he was shaking.

“Giles?” Xander risked the hand on his shoulder, trying to persuade him to turn over; the Big Guy wasn’t having it. He just curled a little more tightly, and turned his face further into the pillow. O.K., and Xander didn’t have the sort of heft which could force him to turn, and wouldn’t have used it if he had. He backed away a little and changed his line of attack, burrowing _under_ Giles’ shoulder and wrapping both arms around him. “Giles, here, come here?”

It felt really weird, trying to get somebody twice his... trying to get _Giles_ to turn into his arms to be comforted, the way Willow might, but Giles was shaking so hard now that he plainly couldn’t stop, and his breathing had gone all funny, his hands were fisted against the bed, and every muscle Xander touched was tight. “Giles, come on, turn over, come on, it’s only me, it’s only Xander. Turn over, let me...” Let me cuddle you, let me kiss you, let me make it all come right for you, let me love you... “Just let me hold you, yeah? Come on, it’s only me.” He pulled desperately, and Giles suddenly gave way, rolling, burying his face in Xander's shoulder, arms tight on Xander's chest.

“Yeah, like that, that’s better.” He worked one hand free and got it to the back of Giles’ neck, into the soft hair. Now that he knew Giles could be calmed by having his hair petted, Xander could be hair-petter-in-chief. Giles was still tense and tight, and he was... was he holding his breath? What the hell for? Unless... unless that hot damp sensation on Xander's shoulder...

“Giles, breathe. C’mon, Big Guy. And relax.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Only me here, Giles, only Xander, nobody who matters. Don’t have to pretend for me. Don’t have to be brave all the time for me. I already know you’re brave.” He stroked gently down a tense shoulder, his tongue thick in his mouth with the need to distinguish between the things that needed to be said to Giles and the things that couldn’t be said, ever. “I know you’ve been hurt. I know you’ve been strong, but you don’t have to be strong all the time. Can give it up sometimes. Let it go.” He rubbed slowly, and stroked and soothed. “Allowed to say you’ve been hurt. Allowed to say you’ve had bad dreams.” His voice fell almost to nothing, and he risked the one that mattered. “Allowed to be scared.”

God, that wasn’t a sound an adult man should make, that inward drag of breath when the body could no longer sustain the control over the chest, when the spasm that comes with weeping couldn’t be held off any longer. Giles made one more attempt to turn away and Xander hung on like a cartoon character, arms tight, fingers digging in, chin on Giles’ hair. “No, you’re not going, stay, Giles, it’s O.K., it’s only me.”

And Giles made another odd sound, a cracked coughed ‘hah!’ of pain and misery, and huddled back in where Xander wanted him.

He was wise enough – desperate enough – to hold his tongue past that. Giles hung on, and Xander hung on, occasionally stroking whatever bits of Giles he could reach, and tried not to allow himself to panic that Giles, the G-Man, the Big Guy, was crying silently against his shoulder as if every bad thing in the world had happened to him all at once. But slowly, slowly, Giles softened against him, relaxed again, sighed and hiccupped, closed his eyes – Xander felt the brush of wet eyelashes against his skin – and was still. Xander lay still too, listening to their breathing. After a while, it seemed that they breathed together to a single rhythm. He could feel a heartbeat jumping, but he was past being able to tell if it was Giles’, under his fingertips, or his own, thumping his chest. When Giles parted his lips stickily, Xander jumped at the noise, but Giles only sighed again, and turned slightly, taking his weight off Xander and leaving an arm across his chest.

“Not ‘only’ anything,” he said blurrily, but when Xander raised his head and peered at him, Giles seemed to be asleep.

So... what was that about? Did a bad nightmare always take Giles that way? It couldn’t, surely, or he’d have come completely unstuck months ago. In that case, was it sharing his bed had done it? Or the stress of the impending apocalypse? And the knowledge of what he had to do to avert it? Was it... was it Xander's fault, making Giles open up? Touching him, when the last man to touch him had hurt him so badly?

And what the fuck should he do now? He’d been so pleased when he fell asleep: he’d thought he was well on the way to getting Giles... to seducing Giles. And now, if he knew anything about Giles at all, the Big Guy was gonna close up like a clam again, worse than before.

He fell asleep still worrying about it, and woke alone. It was light, but still early, and Giles was gone. He got up and looked over the railing; downstairs Giles was dressed and moving in the kitchen.

That was not what he had wanted. He had wanted to be awake when Giles woke. The plan originally had him downstairs, making coffee for Giles but...

The plan was in pieces.

He got up, looked around and once again felt that tenderness, not physical but emotional, like a sore spot in his mind. He mustn’t do anything to distress Giles. Giles had been distressed enough already. He pulled the bedclothes back and hitched them over the rail; he’d seen Giles do that once or twice, obviously to air the bed, so he could make it look as if Xander hadn’t been there if that was what Giles wanted. Then he gathered his stuff, and retreated to the bathroom. If Giles was dressed, Xander needed to be dressed. And washed and shaved and not looking...

Giles was still in the kitchen when Xander came out, looking remote and Watcher-y and buttoned up. God, collar and tie, _and_ vest, _and_ jacket, and it was barely dawn. He poured coffee for Xander without speaking, and Xander jumped when the toaster popped. Giles put toast on a plate and held it out to him, still without speaking.

In the bathroom, while he shaved, Xander had put together a whole speech. Now he reached for the first line of it, and nothing came to mind.

He ate his toast. Giles spoke first.

“About last night...”

Xander looked up, but it seemed that Giles’ speech had eloped with Xander's, leaving no forwarding address. Xander took heart.

“Last night was good. Can’t tell me you didn’t like it. Told you, you should make time for yourself more often. Play some music, read something that isn’t a demonology, chill. You liked it. I liked you liking it.”

“I, I didn’t mean that. I meant... later.”

Xander shut his eyes and wondered if prayer would help. The silence swelled and echoed and apparently neither of them knew what to say. Xander broke first.

“You had a nightmare,” he said deliberately. “You let me hold you. You went back to sleep. And there was... nothing more to it than that.” Oh God, that was _so_ lame. He wanted to say: let me comfort you. Let me hold you when you have bad dreams. Let me give you something better than Angelus did, something better than pain and fear. And maybe Giles saw what he wanted to say, because when he looked up, Giles nodded once and looked away again.

And Xander was suddenly so _ticked_ , so filled with anger, not against Giles, who did the best he could but against the universe which asked so much of him and apparently gave him so little in return.

“No,” he said strongly, and Giles looked back, confused. “We were doing O.K. I touched you and you liked it, and you took off all the tweed armour and you let me see Giles, not just the Watcher. I want Giles.” He got up and went to Giles, and his hands went to Giles’ neck, unfastening the tie, unbuttoning the collar, and then up into Giles’ hair again, at the back of Giles’ neck. He didn’t care about Giles’ personal space; he invaded it without another thought, stretching up to drag Giles’ head down, and kissing him hard. When he pulled away, Giles was breathless, and he looked puzzled.

“It’s nothing to do with them,” said Xander incoherently. “Not any of the others. It’s nothing to do with apocalypses and, and vampires and demons and bad guys and.. It’s not. It’s _not_. Not any more. It’s about us. You and me. I touched you and you _liked_ it, and there’s no reason we can’t do it some more and both like it. Not because of prophecies and, and stuff. Just because we want to. You don’t have to feel guilty because you never did it before or because you want to do it now – you do want to do it now, don’t you? Oz said so. Because the only person it affects is me, and I’m cool with it. So if you want to, I want to too, and why can’t we?” And way to go, Xander, with the clear explanation and making Giles think of you as an adult, only Giles was doing that thing where he tipped his head sideways and put the leg of his spectacles against his lips and frowned, and Xander suddenly realised that for three _years_ he’d thought that was cute. Yesterday he’d touched Giles and Giles had liked it; he kept coming back to that. So he unfastened two more buttons, and Giles didn’t stop him, and then he unfastened all the rest and slipped his hands inside Giles’ shirt and Giles let him do that too, shirt loose under the tweed, and he kissed Giles again. He ran his hands up Giles’ back, fingers light on the skin, marking the scars and making them his own, and then he kissed Giles. He traced round the line of a rib, pulled lightly at chest hair, and kissed Giles. He skated his hands up towards Giles’ throat again, thumbs along his smooth jaw, pushed in to take the warm smell of whatever Giles splashed on his face after he shaved, and kissed him again, not hard but gently, promising tenderness without ever having to use any word so un-macho. Kissing Giles. _So_ the right thing to do.

“Have you got somewhere you need to be this morning?”

Giles shook his head.

“Something you absolutely _have_ to do?”

Another shake of the head.

“What say we go back to bed, Big Guy? Just you and me, no demons. No memories. No anything.”

Giles went very still. Then, quite deliberately, he set his spectacles down on the worktop and cupped his hands around Xander's face.

Giles kissed Xander.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “Good idea. You know what to do, don’t you? You can show me.”

For all that it was the answer he’d wanted, it wasn’t the one he’d expected to get, but it seemed this was what Giles did. When he gave way, he gave way suddenly and completely. Xander grabbed his hand before he could change his mind, and tugged him back towards the stairs, making one detour to his duffle to scrabble inside for the tube of slick which he’d been carrying for half a week.

“I’ve got some upstairs,” observed Giles, mildly, as Xander pocketed the little tube. Xander stared; Giles shrugged. “I’m inexperienced, not ignorant.”

“Well, good,” Xander recovered. “That means we’ve got plenty.” He tugged again at Giles’ hand, but Giles didn’t seem to be resisting. In the bedroom, though, he was a little hesitant, replacing his jacket on a hanger, putting it away carefully. Xander didn’t push, just waiting until Giles turned back, and then coming in to kiss him. Kissing Giles seemed to be the key. Shy guy was cool with the kissage and kissage could be done until he wasn’t shy guy any more. He backed up a little, and a little more, drawing Giles after him towards the bed; Giles tensed but he followed, and even gave Xander a push when the edge of the mattress touched his knees. There was a moment’s awkwardness with shoes, and then Xander went for broke, dragging jeans and socks off and crawling onto the bed in just his shirt and shorts. He saw Giles gather his courage to follow suit, and pulled him down to the pillows in a tangle of unfastened shirt.

“No hurry,” he said cheerfully. “Got all the time in the world.”

All the time in the world to explore Giles’ chest again, this time with his tongue as well as his fingers. All the time in the world to press kisses up Giles’ throat while his fingertips drew slow lazy circles on his back. All the time in the world to tangle tongues, and for once he could see the point of babble, because when he babbled into Giles’ skin, Giles relaxed. Stupid, stupid, he should have worked that out long ago: Xander might be babble-guy, but Giles was words-man, Giles with the books and the notes and the reference cards. Stood to reason that what was gonna get Giles going would be words, that Giles could be fired up by Xander _telling_ him what he was doing, what he wanted to do, what he was gonna do, how it was gonna feel. Xander would be prepared to bet that somewhere under Giles’ bed, or in a drawer in the nightstand (which Giles called a bedside table), Giles had his porn stash – he was a _man_ , of course he had a porn stash – which would be devoid of pictures. All words, Giles’ porn must be. So Xander whispered his intentions into Giles’ skin, and he didn’t think Giles noticed when his shirt hit the floor and Xander's followed.

If this was a new experience for Giles, it wasn’t far off one for Xander either. Yeah sure, Xander had done the sex thing with another guy – David wasn’t the only one, although he was the only one who had made double figures – but what he’d had... wasn’t what he wanted to have with Giles. He’d had – he didn’t want to call it kid sex because that sounded way creepy, and they’d all been of age, but... beginners’ sex? Gay Sex 101? It had always been a bit rushed, either because they weren’t sure how long they could count on privacy, or just because they were guys and they wanted it now and if they wanted more they could have more later. And Xander didn’t think he was specially selfish, he’d always made sure that the other guy had a good time, but...

He’d never before thought it _more_ important for the other guy to like it than for him to.

He’d always done what he could to make sure the other guy liked it, because that was the way to make sure that he’d get off himself, right? That was the only reason.

He’d never realised how _hot_ it could be to give somebody else a good time.

Not until he had Giles shifting and sighing under his fingertips, not until he discovered that there was a place on Giles’ ribs that would make him stretch and move under Xander's tongue. Not until he discovered that blowing on the inside of his elbow made Giles shiver. Not until he felt the _power_ of seeing Giles’ erection tenting his jockeys when Xander hadn’t even touched it yet. Not until it occurred to him that he would happily spend the whole morning making Giles writhe. Not until he found that with each touch on Giles’ body he was planning other places to touch. Not until he found that suddenly he understood the difference between having sex and making love.

Then he flung himself into it whole-heartedly, seeking Giles’ pleasure rather than his own, whispering and encouraging until the shy guy began to smile and to experiment himself, searching for the places that would make Xander writhe too. Xander was careful: anything he did to the Big Guy he was likely to get done back to him which was cool, or hot or something... which made his brain melt, but some of the things, he could still see Giles hesitate. The second time that happened, he was quick to turn, to roll, to hint loudly that he wanted his nipples sucked, his neck bitten, something not scary. There had been too many times when Giles had had to do something he didn’t want; he didn’t have to do things like that for Xander. Xander had taken a month to decide that he could suck another guy’s dick; there was no need for Giles to have to decide in a minute.

Actually, Xander would be quite happy just with Giles’ dick in his mouth. He’d half expected Giles to stop him, and how dumb was that? It wasn’t like Giles had never been given a blow job – he’d just never been given one by another owner-driver. So Giles wasn’t ready for the full mutual experience – so what? Xander, who had tried it, wasn’t convinced that a sixty-nine was all it was cracked up to be. He’d found it impossible to concentrate either on what he was doing or on what was being done to him. He’d rather just spread Giles out and blow him slowly, without distractions... without distractions for Xander, at least. If Xander's mouth on his cock, Xander's tongue exploring his balls, kept Giles from worrying about Xander's fingers working further back, so much the better. If Xander had got a second wet finger into Giles’ ass before Giles thought to object to the first one, whose problem was that?

When he drew back a little though, Giles was watching him knowingly. No point in trying to disguise that he was reaching for the lube. Giles eased a little down the bed, and started to turn over and Xander stopped him. “Stay this way?”

Giles stopped, but he looked a little surprised, and Xander nuzzled his cheek against Giles chest. “I wanna be able to see your face.” He did, but that wasn’t all: he wanted Giles to be able to see _Xander's_ face. If he and Oz had been right, the last thing Giles needed was the feeling that somebody was doing something _to_ him rather than _with_ him. First time, Giles needed to be sure that this was Xander. “Wanna be able to see how much you like this. Because you’re gonna like it, believe me.”   

“I do believe you,” said Giles hoarsely, and Xander just filled up, hiding his face against Giles’ chest. But Giles seemed to know, reaching for Xander, tipping his chin up, kissing him over and over. “I do. I trust you.”

O.K. No pressure, Xander. He struggled wrong-handed with the lid of the lube because he didn’t want to take those fingers away from where he could feel they were doing some good, until Giles, shaking his head and _laughing_ at Xander, reached up to help, twisting the lid off for him and reversing it to break the foil seal. God. Well, Xander had never thought before that somebody laughing at him during sex could possibly be of the good, which just went to show that he didn’t know half as much as would be good for either of them. O.K. He could... actually, he could manage – just – to get his fingers slick without moving them, and a third one might be a good idea if Giles had never done this before.

Right. He opened his mouth to ask if Giles was ready, and closed it again. Giles would say yes anyway, and Xander thought he probably was, and anyway, he was supposed to be the one who knew what he was doing. He settled himself between Giles’ thighs, stroked softly once more, and lined himself up.

“Push against me,” he instructed; Giles did, and he prodded rather awkwardly twice and then got it, sliding his cockhead in just far enough. Giles panted. “I know, feels odd, but wait, yeah? Try not to tense up?”

He braced himself on his elbows, and ran his tongue over such skin as he could reach. The grip on his cock relaxed a little and he pushed again.

“Oh.” That was Giles.

“Squeeze hard and relax.”

Giles did and Xander’s eyes crossed; he heard himself say something but he wasn’t sure what. He got Giles slowly back into focus; Giles was obviously caught between concern and amusement.

“What?”

“I – you swore. I wasn’t sure if I’d hurt you.”

“If you’d hurt _me_? I – no. God, no. Am I hurting you?”

Giles shook his head. “Not hurt exactly.”

“Squeeze again.” Oh God, it was just as good the second time, but he managed to control himself and to thrust as Giles’ grip slackened.

“Oh.” Giles again. He looked thoughtful; Xander had seen him wear that expression with a translation which obstinately refused to give up its secrets and sometimes it was followed by – yes! – that look of ‘I’ve got you now’ as Giles wrestled meaning out of the one word which made all the rest fall into place, and that was the look which was coming over Giles face, as he curled his back, _sucking_ Xander even deeper, and hooked his ankles over the backs of Xander's legs. “Oh.”

“Oh,” agreed Xander, unable to find even babble to work with. He was deep inside Giles and it was _so_ much better than it had been with David or Marty or... or with the few girls he had been with, and he had to make it so that Giles thought so too. He thrust, slowly.

“Oh.” That was a slow pronouncement, as if everything was becoming clear to Giles. As if now he understood what it was all about. He stirred and tightened on Xander who understood it too. He could move now, slow shifts and slides which curled his toes. They seemed to be having a good effect on Giles too: the look of deep concentration covered his face and Xander thought: this is what Giles looks like when he’s being fucked; and had to stop for a moment because that idea wasn’t compatible with keeping a steady stroke, or indeed with anything other than coming instantly, screaming.

“Touch yourself,” he gasped.

“Can’t.”

He pushed up on his forearms and gave Giles a puzzled look. “Huh?”

Giles’ head tipped back, his fingers dug into Xander's spine and he panted. “I’ll come.”

Wasn’t that the plan? Xander was sure there had been some reason – other than the sheer bliss of what they were doing, and the fact that it was how a decent fuck ended up – for Giles to come. And for Xander to come. But what the hell, who cared, and after all, he knew what Giles meant. This was way too good to finish it yet. He gave a tiny squirm, trying to get closer still, deeper yet, and Giles yelped.

“Oh!”

Xander yelped too, because Giles had _clutched_ , clutched with his fingers in Xander's back and his forearms on Xander's ribs and his ass on Xander's dick. “Giles, meet your prostate. Prostate, this is Giles.” He squirmed again.

“Smart – oh! Smartarse,” panted Giles. “Fuck, do that again.”

Oh yeah. Oh _yeah_. He would do it as often as Giles wanted because every time he did it, Giles’ ass gripped his cock _just_ right, and Giles was pulling at him, tugging his shoulders to get his chest down until they were close, close enough for Giles’ mouth to fasten on his, for Giles to bite frantically at Xander's lip and throat and ear, for one of them to be whining ridiculously and it might be him, and oh yeah, he still needed to make Giles come, because that was only polite and there was another reason but he couldn’t remember what it was, so he squirmed again and Giles gasped and then bucked beneath him and everything throbbed. Giles was silent when he came, head thrown back, mouth open, and no sound coming from him until he took a long breath and let it out with a sigh, and then another and another, each one accompanied by a squeeze on Xander, who heard himself give a ridiculous whimper before his balls tightened and his brain shorted out.

One advantage of being the one on top was that his head automatically came to rest hanging over the shoulder of the one underneath; he’d noticed it before, and this time he wondered vaguely if it was a survival characteristic. Head slightly lower than body, so blood flow encouraged towards brain. Giles still had his eyes shut, and his chest was still heaving, although some of that might be because of Xander's not inconsiderable weight on top of him. As soon as Xander's body obeyed him, he got off the Big Guy. _You got the Big Guy off_ , a small voice in his head cheered. That had been important because...

“Did we just save the world?”

Giles, eyes shut, nodded. Xander tried to think about it.

“Cool.”

There was a box of tissues on the nightstand; in another five minutes, Xander was capable of taking a handful and cleaning them both up. That was progress, but when he turned back from dropping them in the bin, Giles had turned onto his side, facing away from Xander. That was way too much like last night; he didn’t like that at all but he didn’t know what to do about it. Well, except to turn the same way, and to tuck himself against Giles’ back, one hand on his waist, forehead against his shoulder. Got your back, Giles, and don’t know what to do about it. It left him looking down Giles’ shadowed spine.

“Um, Giles? You’re... glowing.”

“I know. There was a line in the translation I didn’t understand, about the light of manhood overcoming the sacri... the volunteer. I didn’t realise it was literal. It’s, it’s a side effect of the spell. It’s a good sign, means the spell completed properly.”

“You’re gonna glow in the dark now? That’s a _good_ sign? You’ll be vampire fodder!”

“I don’t think so. It’s fading already.” His voice was unsteady. Xander heard it uneasily.

“Are... are you all right?” Stupid question: even Xander could tell the Big Guy wasn’t all right.

“Yes.” It was quelling and completely unconvincing. Xander wanted to hug him, to squirm over the top of him and work himself into Giles’ arms, and if Oz told people that he was a cuddler, he’d just live with it because he was.

“You’re not. What’s... Did I hurt you?”

“Oh! No, not at all. You were most considerate. Thank you.” That wasn’t even his Giles, that was polite Mr Giles from the school and Xander didn’t want him.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Crap, as Oz would say. There was a _big_ Something Wrong here, and he needed to know. He put his hand on Giles’ shoulder and snatched it back when Giles flinched. Then he saw that Giles had his eyes screwed shut as if he was expecting Xander to hit him or something, and he carefully put his hand back.

“We did good, Giles.” It got a faint smile and a tiny nod and how scary was that? Where was ‘there’s a difference between adjectives and adverbs, Xander’? “Giles... what’s the matter?”

Giles shook his head, but alarm bells were ringing for Xander. “You’re shaking. You’re shaking! Why are you shaking? Giles... what did I do? Did I hurt you? Was that not... You know I wouldn’t...” and he did crawl over Giles, squirmed close and wrapped his arms around him, pulled Giles’ head to his shoulder and then just hung on, the same way that he had hung on in the night. This time at least, Giles didn’t struggle: Giles hung on to Xander as desperately as he had done before, face hidden, and Xander worked his own face into Giles hair.

“Gotta help me here, Big Guy. I need clues. Did I hurt you? You know I wouldn’t do that on purpose, don’t you?”

Giles – well, it presumably counted as shaking his head, but it was the smallest movement against Xander.

“What _is_ it? Talk to me?” For Giles, having clung, was trying now to push away and only instinct stopped Xander from letting him go.

“I can’t bear it!”

It was an anguished whisper, heartbreaking in its intensity.

“ _What?_ ”

“Letting you go.”

Xander inspected that from all sides. Nope, made no sense at all. “Um, not going anywhere?”

“You can’t stay here.”

Ow. He’d thought... he didn’t know what he’d thought.

“You’re half my age, you’ve got your whole life... oh dear lord, Giles, have you got _nothing_ but clichés? You’re _pathetic_.”

Xander began to get a clue. “I thought you were rather fabulous.”

“I, I...”

“I mean, might not be talking about the same thing here but I thought that was actually pretty damn good as sex goes. Not saying we can’t do it better, you understand, with a bit more practice, and perhaps a bit less by way of apocalyptic stress, but I thought we started well.”

“You, you...”

“O.K., just trying to get us on the same page here, Giles. I know we’ve not done this the usual way round: generally thought advisable to date before the hot sex, but it’s not like we haven’t known each other for years. I’d say joint slayage probably counts as dating? So the whole half your age thing, the I’ve got my whole life in front of me, we’re a bit late with that. I think we can pass on it. The sex I thought was good. Did you think the sex was good? I definitely thought the sex was good. And I’m telling you now, my idea is that we have a lot more of it, O.K.? That’s what I want. More sex, and not just the sex, and I suppose I’m gonna have to tell you, only it’s real embarrassing, but I like to snuggle. I like to snuggle after sex and I like to cuddle... well, I just do. And if you could get round to telling me what upsets you, that would help because I’m struggling with this, I honestly am, and if we’re gonna have a relationship,” and he rushed this bit to stop Giles interrupting, “it’s gonna go easier if I know what’s going on in your head. Starting with why you’re trying to send me away.”

Giles was silent for a long moment. “You’re half my age,” he said again quietly.

“Yeah. I can’t help it. I’m over the age of consent and you’re not my school librarian any more. If I want an older man, I do. And you can skip the ‘whole life in front of me’ crap too, because the bits of my whole life I’ve had so far have not generally been of the good and now that I’ve had a taste of what I want... well, I have. You’re not trying to send me away because of me, Giles. It’s because of you and I want to know why, because I don’t think you want to. You telling me you don’t want me?”

Giles looked shiftily away. “I – in my day I've wanted a lot of things I shouldn’t have had.”

“Why am I one of them?”

“Because...”

“What’s the thing... what is it curls you up in the bed like you’ve been wounded? What is it that’s hurting so much? What do you want? It’s not just the sex; could have had that from anybody, just by asking. What is it you want?”

Giles focused on a flaw in the fabric of the sheet. “Somebody here. That’s... that’s why I’m afraid... that’s why it’s the wrong thing. It’s not the sex; it’s somebody here, it’s the touch, it’s just... it’s not being alone. I, I, I can’t... It’s wrong to, to use you that way just because I don’t want to be alone.”

Yeah. He got that. Not being alone when the bad dreams came, when the monsters came out of the dark. “Lie down?”

“I, I beg your pardon?”

“Just wondering if we fit better the other way? If you cuddle me? You’re bigger than me. Can do it your way too, but worth a try? Listen, Giles, you want somebody here to share the bad dreams. I’m signing up. And before you go all self-sacrificing and noble on me, let me point out that it’s not all your decision. I get a vote too, yeah? Making me unhappy just so that you can be unhappy is stupid and selfish and we’re not doing it. You’re not the only one who has bad dreams and needs somebody there; I do too. It’s not using if we’re both getting something out of it.” He pushed and tugged to get Giles holding him properly. “But there has to be some more of the hot sex.”

Giles blinked, plainly not completely convinced. Tough. Xander was _totally_ gonna get his own way on this one. “Hot sex, G-Man. You wanna go on top? Can tell you how if you need instructions.”

Bits of Giles liked the idea; Xander found one of the bits and stroked it gently. Not gently enough; Giles jumped. But he smiled and relaxed and maybe, just maybe, it was gonna be O.K.

“I’m twice your age, Xander. I’ll need lunch first.”

“Could cuddle until then?”

“Talk me through it.”


End file.
